


Into the Imperium

by midnightprelude



Series: What We Have Lost [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Ancient Elves (Dragon Age), Arlathan (Dragon Age), F/M, Post-Canon, Rebellion, Tevinter Imperium (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-06-22 04:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 105,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19660141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightprelude/pseuds/midnightprelude
Summary: "I suspect you have questions," the Dread Wolf stated simply, familiarity gone from his voice.And she did. More than she could fit into words.He saved her from his mark.And in return, she would save him from himself.





	1. The Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

> All of the lovely artwork is by the amazing [Lethendralis](https://lethendralis-paints.tumblr.com). Thanks for bringing my silly dreams to life! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently going through for rewrites of the entire fic and hope to post new material when I'm finished with that. Thanks for staying with this little fever dream of a story!

The pain in her arm was indescribable, not unlike the feeling when she had first used the Anchor. When Solas had stretched her arm hand towards the glowing green abyss and the rift had knitted itself together at her insistence, leaving no trace behind. That day, she had closed a hole in the sky with nothing but her will and the magical mark on her hand. In a moment, she went from criminal to hero. Now she knew it was all because of him. Everything they had endured, everything they had lost, everything that had changed was because of a humbly dressed, soft-spoken elven apostate mage with a secret that changed everything.

She forced her eyes open and realized, panic washing over her, the elf was leaving again. He had probably saved her life, kept her preoccupied with her questions and the pain in her arm, and then waited until the very moment when she should be incapacitated to drift away from her. He had already stepped through the eluvian, under the impression that her agony would be too consuming to notice his departure.

A grim smile crossed her lips. This would not be the first time he had underestimated her.

She gripped what was left of her right arm, still disintegrating, in her left. Gritting her teeth to avoid screaming out, she stood slowly, her slender figure dwarfed by the massive glimmering mirror before her. The movement nearly made her retch, but she knew that in a moment, he would be gone and all of the Inquisition’s forces would not bring him back. She let out a deep breath and broke into a sprint towards the mirror, forcing herself to hope that she wasn’t too late.

Passing through the eluvian was like running headfirst through a waterfall and it always surprised her that she didn’t emerge cold and dripping. The air in the Crossroads was as she remembered—odd and still—as though it had been waiting for something. Waiting for an eternity, most likely. The Crossroads, the world between worlds, had existed before any of them, maybe even Solas, and would exist long after they were gone. Hundreds of mirrors stood stark in shades of blue against the pale pink of the sky. Blossoms grew on ancient trees, though no wind blew their branches. She knew the effect would be invisible to a non-elf; the magic was only apparent to those of her kind. To a human, everything would appear cold and lifeless. It was beautiful in a way. The elves had kept something sacred for themselves, even if most of her people would never see it.

There was no sign of Solas anywhere she could see, though there was probably a reason for that. Even if he was close, he would not be likely to show himself. She had to think quickly to call him back. _Solas._ Pride, in her tongue. Even when he was playing a different character, he wore his nature like a second skin. When he was angry, it would always peer out from the other layers. His pride compelled him to prove his superior knowledge of the world, questioning whether her people truly knew anything of it at all. She would need to insult him, even if it would leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Fen’Harel!” she shouted into the abyss. “I hope you did not believe that I would allow you to slink away from me again, tail between your legs like a frightened dog. I did not believe that one of our gods would cower so easily. From one you consider a shade of a person, no less.”

The air in front of her shimmered, a scene she had seen during countless fights she thought they would lose. Solas had moved himself through the air, Fade Stepping to approach her. The elf was facing her again, brow knotted with despair, hands laced in front of him. She tried to hold on to her anger, but whenever she found herself looking upon him she felt the longing return. Two years and she had only seen him in her dreams. That should have strengthened her fury, but she forgot it quickly when his eyes met hers again, gray as mist in the moonlight, a reflection of her desire written clearly in his eyes. She wasn’t sure what she had expected when she called out; it had been a phantom of a wish, impossible to grant.

But he was here again, despite everything he had said. He waited, silent, until it was clear that she did not mean to explain herself first. 

_That’s precisely the problem with Solas. He never disappears for long enough for me to entirely erase him from my memory._

“I did not think you would be able to follow me, or willing,” he said, voice as ephemeral as their surroundings. She wondered if a hand would pass through him, if she dared try, whether the man before her was flesh or magic. He sounded delicate, strained, as though each word pained him more than he could express.

“Not after discovering the truth. You are no shade, not to me. You have not been for years.” Gone was the air of superiority he had tried to force upon himself earlier, when he was playing Fen’Harel. He was tender now, delicate, as though this entire exchange could unravel at any moment. He was Solas again, the same person she had kissed in the Fade when the world was falling apart. “Can I see your arm again?”

She nodded, extending what was left of her, then felt her entire body go numb at his touch.

Magic emanated from his hand as he ran it over the air where her arm used to be. The anchor was gone now, and with it went her right arm up to the elbow. “I believe that my intervention worked. The anchor should trouble you no longer.”

She frowned. “Did you think that was why I leapt after you, Solas? For a medical examination?”

He sighed, releasing the weight of the world with his breath. “No, not truly, I suppose. I had to check, though. I do not wish you harm. As I said, I would seek to spare you pain.”

She felt her anger return, bile rising in her chest. “Another lie. There is a far deeper agony within your power to alleviate, but yet you choose not to address it. My world is not yours to destroy.”

He stepped back, as though struck, staring at her with wide-eyed bewilderment. He spoke softly again, as though forming the very words gave him grief. “Why did you follow me, vhenan?”

Her eyes met his, holding his gaze steadily. “Because you owe me something, and I intend to collect on it.” He nodded, urging her to continue. “I deserve your ear, if nothing else. I have listened to your counsel for years, even when you were working to deceive me.”

A slight smile played across his lips, despite everything. “I rather thought you enjoyed my counsel, even when I was doing my best to withhold it.”

“I did,” she said, choosing not to return his smile. “But still I would have you listen.”

“I am listening now.”

 _Damn him._ She almost wished he had disagreed with her, turned her away. It would have made it easier to hate him, to fight him, in the end.

She cleared her throat, unsure how to begin. “From what you’ve shared with me, it seems as though you enjoy working alone.” She paused, momentarily. “It also seems that your meddling to date has been disastrous for yourself, the elven people, and the world.”

He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes skittering away from hers, staring off into the endless sky. “I did what was necessary given the circumstances. I could not predict what the consequences would be.”

She continued, her voice stronger, and gaining momentum with each word. “No. You did not predict the consequences, but you caused them regardless. You created the Veil to save Elvehnan from itself. You changed the world irrevocably, brought down the culture you aimed to protect. You gave your focus to _Corypheus_ , of all thrice damned people, in an attempt to reverse your actions. He nearly broke apart the entire _world_ , Solas. That was entirely your doing.”

He avoided her eyes, but she found herself trying to take his face in her hands. _My hand_. _Not hands anymore. I’m going to need to get used to that_. Her uninjured left hand found his cheek and guided his eyes back to hers.

“Despite all of that, despite launching us to the brink of disaster, you stayed to help the Inquisition. Where others would have fled in the face of their failings, you stayed to undo them where you could. And we did accomplish it, in the end, but it was only when you stopped trying to do everything yourself that we succeeded. You have been alone for millennia, vhenan, carrying too much for any man to bear alone. I would not expect you to make all of the right decisions when not even the wisest spirit could have predicted the consequences of your actions. I cannot say if this is the correct decision, even now. All I can be sure of is that we have done more good for the world together than either of us has accomplished apart.

“Besides, I would have you with me if I could. Perhaps that is selfish of me, but I have given so much of myself away that I would have this one last piece.” His face had softened at that and he looked younger, far younger than when they met on that frosty mountainside. She felt the sting of tears beginning to form, the familiar burning in her throat. “If you would be so kind as to give it to me.”

“I love you. Please do not leave me again, searching for you, trying to thwart you. You tried to save my life by removing the anchor. Do you not realize that sorrow would kill me just as swiftly?” The tears came readily now and she could do nothing to staunch them. She had not cried in his presence before, and the thought occurred to her that she was finding herself in tears in front of a _god_ , one she had been told stories about as a child. She was a grown woman, crying to Fen’Harel. Telling him she loved him. Begging him to stay.

 _Perhaps the world has seen stranger things, but not many_.

To her surprise, she found him smiling again, though this time it was laced with sadness. Even after their time apart, she doubted he enjoyed seeing her like this. “Vhenan, I did not it possible that you would come calling after me. Not after what I’ve done. Not after how I’ve hurt you. It seems…”

“That you’ve been wrong about me again? About the world, _again_ ,” she finished for him. “You really should stop coming to conclusions without consulting me. You never seem to be able to paint the entire portrait.”

He nodded. “It is an odd skill you have, ferreting out the truth from a situation. Cassandra may have her faults, but I do not believe she could have chosen a more apt Inquisitor.” He paused, considering. “I may be set in my ways, but I am not above reason. You are correct, I have made a mess of things in the past. I acquiesce to the possibility that a partnership may be beneficial to complete our mutual goals. Namely, not destroying the world, if we can avoid it.”

Suddenly her body felt lighter than it had for over two years. Since before he left. Since before she became the Inquisitor. Honestly, she hadn’t felt this way since long before the Conclave.

“Then you’ll come?”

He nodded, his face solemn, but his eyes betrayed his silent joy. “At least for now. I will try.”

“We will try together. This is good. I’m glad it was not necessary for me to resort to my second plan.”

His ears seemed to perk, like a dog who had heard a breath of something on the wind. “Oh? And what might that have been?”

She smiled, as though they were meeting in less desperate times. “If you didn’t choose to come with me willingly, I would have dragged you back to Skyhold by your ear.”

He feigned fear, meeting her smile with his own. “It is best for the both of us that you didn’t attempt that.” He stopped to brush a stray hair out from her face. “I could not imagine that you would ever forgive me for what I have done to you. I have misjudged you, again. Perhaps with training, I can become the man that you wish me to be.”

She smiled up at him, tears brimming again. He moved to wipe them from her eyes, but she took care of it herself before he could reach her. “You always have been who I wanted. What I need is for you to become the man that _Thedas_ needs. The man that the People need. What we will need to do is going to be much harder than simply pulling down the Veil. ”

“So you have a plan, then?” His face grew solemn again, crossed with lines that had momentarily disappeared.

She nodded. “I have at least an inkling. First, we need to gather allies. We already have a foothold in Ferelden and Orlais which we can use to our advantage. We will need to contact the Dalish at some point.” She caught him rolling his eyes at that.

“That’s unnecessary and you look like a petulant child. You’ll need to work on that if you plan to convince anyone that you’re Fen’Harel. The _real_ Fen’Harel.”

His brow creased at the implication. “I have told you already, I am no god. None of the Evanuris were gods in truth,” he said, a hint of frustration in his voice. “Nothing more than mages.”

She smiled wryly. “How many men, even mages, do you know who can turn a foe to stone just by _thinking_ of them? Besides, do you think it will really matter to the Dalish whether you’re _just_ an immortal elf from ancient Elvhenan with incredible magical abilities or the Fen’Harel they’ve been using to frighten children for centuries? I do not think the distinction will be quite as firm as you might let on.

“Anyway, as I was mentioning, we will need allies. The Dalish could be useful, if you were willing to tell them at least part of the truth. Gifts of knowledge would appease them more than anything else. I know that they hunger for information about their past. This is something we can give easily and willingly.”

He nodded, placing a hand under his chin. “I see. Before I met you, I would have disagreed with the idea. I realize now how foolish I probably sounded to their ears when I walked among them. I came as an outsider, trying to tell them that all they believed was false without giving them a reason to trust me. They have been told lies for centuries. That they are inferior. Untrustworthy. Outsiders. The Dalish are of the People, even if they have changed from what they once were, by no fault of their own. They deserve to hear their truth from one of their own.”

“I’m glad you think so. The Dalish aren’t the only elves we will need to contend with. There are thousands living in slums across Thedas, with little hope for a better future. We will need to change hundreds of years of perception and fear to elevate them out of their status. This will not happen overnight. And then there is the enslaved population in Tevinter.”

He sighed. “They have known only chains their entire life. They would not take well to freedom now. Some would say that there is little hope for them.”

She smiled and took his hand in hers. “Luckily you and I happen to be the god of rebellion and a reluctant prophet. Hope is our main form of currency.” She paused, considering her next words carefully. “I would understand, however, if you would choose the simpler path and simply rip the Veil out of the sky. I would be forced to stop you, but I would understand. Changing the world is challenging work.”

He shook his head gently and pressed his palm to his forehead. “If I have learned nothing else, I know that to be true. I’m assuming there are benefits to following your path, as well?”

“I don’t have to track you down and try to kill you, for one. I would much prefer avoiding that if at all possible.”

He raised his eyebrows, expectantly. “I must seem incredibly selfish, given I was the one who hurt you, but I must admit that I was hoping for more satisfying rewards than just simply not dying.”

She pretended to consider for a moment. In truth, she would have given him nearly anything, and quite willingly. He didn’t need to be made aware of that, however. Not yet. “There may be a fair bit of groveling involved, but I believe it could be possible for you to earn back my favor in time, if that is what you wish.”

“All the way back to Skyhold?”

A mischievous look crossed her face. “You think that I overlooked the fact that we’re currently in the Crossroads? It would take what? An hour to get back? Less? That’s an entirely insufficient amount of groveling for my tastes.” She smiled at the mildly dejected look on the Dread Wolf’s face. “Fine. I can grant you a brief reprieve. But that doesn’t absolve you completely.”

“I have missed you. Ir abelas, ma vehnan. For everything, I am sorry.”

“That’s as good a start as any.”

He pulled her close, his golden armor cool against the heat emanating from her skin. She pulled him tighter still, as though he could disappear at any moment. She looked into his eyes briefly before she brushed her lips against his. She found his mouth pushing back at her with sudden fervor, as fierce as the first time he had returned her kiss. She steadied herself as he nearly knocked her over.

_Oh, how I have missed him._

“Careful, I’m not used to kissing you fully armed. I would be prefer not to crush each other under the weight of all that metal.”

He smiled again, all of the pain of his memories momentarily abandoned. He snapped his fingers and suddenly he was clothed simply again, in the robes he wore when he was still just another ally in the Inquisition.

She removed her own arms, laying them aside, drenched in sweat and exhausted from fighting her way towards him earlier.

“Did you really need to snap to do that?”

“No, it was an unnecessary gesture. I once learned from a mutual friend that a bit of flair can lend itself nicely to situations such as this.”

  
“I didn’t think that you would listen to _Dorian_ , of all people. Though I do suppose that explains the _golden armor_ you cloaked yourself in earlier.”

“Yes, on occasion even a fool can speak wisdom. It may take me several millennia, but I typically learn. Even from Dorian.” 

She laughed at that, gently pressing a kiss to his brow. “Let us not spoil this moment by speaking of those who aren’t here, even ones we care for. You have years of longing to make up for and I will not waste that on idle chatter.”

"So you have spared a thought or two for me, then? After all this time?”

“You make it sound as though I ever stopped thinking of you.” With that, she kissed him again, not exactly gently this time. She was through with civility. He may still betray her again on the morning, and they still needed to deal with the fact that he had almost gotten her and everyone else she had ever known killed, but for now, he was entirely hers. She did not intend to squander that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> This was my first chapter ever and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Elvish translations:  
> Vhenan: shortened version of 'my heart', term of endearment


	2. A Bitter Vintage

The light in the Crossroads had not changed, though they had probably been lingering in the realm for hours. Night should have begun to fall there, by her imagining. Though it was hard to mark the passage of time in this place where nothing changes. Even harder when she was with him.

Nothing more than kissing had passed between them. _I suppose that would be prudent. I am still not sure how to feel about him anymore. Everything has become… frustratingly complicated._ She leaned into his shoulder, her back against what was once an ancient spire. Moss began to grow between the cracks and was covering the ground with a soft green blanket. He shifted, looking at her again. She leaned further into his touch as he stroked her hair, his fingers running through the tangles as though he wanted to fix even that part of her.

“I suppose my respite is over,” he asked, a touch regretfully. “It was more than I probably deserved.”

She frowned. “I think it must be. I’m still unsure how I should approach any of this. I don’t know what the right decision should be.”

A small, barely noticeable smile graced his lips. “At least you tend towards making the right decision more often than not. I believe it’s my decisions that need worry us, not yours.”

“And what if we land on the same decision?”

“That may be the most dangerous of all,” he said, the smile growing steadily. “I suppose we shall see in time.”

“I think we should go back to Skyhold. The others will be waiting.” She rose slowly, moving to steady herself with her right hand before remembering its absence. Solas grabbed her before she could stumble. She looked back at him with gratitude, shaking feeling back into her legs.

“I could probably fix that.” He indicated her stump of an arm. “Healing magic isn’t my specialty, but I could imagine how it would be done.”

“Perhaps after you’ve practiced a bit. Preferably not on live creatures.”

He looked appalled. “Living creatures are the only thing that you _can_ practice healing magic with! Anything else would be necromancy.”

She sighed, flustered. She should probably learn more about magic if she was to convince Solas that removing the Veil wasn’t necessary. “I didn’t mean that. I just don’t want you to go around _making_ amputees to practice regrowing limbs. And I don’t want to be the first you attempt it with either.”

“That’s well enough, I suppose. I will not ask again until I’m sure I can mend you.”

“With no complications?”

“Obviously,” he replied, mildly irritated. _Odd to see a god acting petulant. Although I don’t think he’s had anyone contradict him for centuries, so I suppose he’s gotten used to agreeing with his own voice._

“Let us go, then. To Skyhold.”

“You should step through before me. My sudden appearance might attract unwanted attention.”

She shook her head. “Do you think I’m fool enough to fall for that? No, we’ll be going together. I cannot trust you in the Crossroads alone.”

“Do you intend to watch me every moment of every day? I could always go back through the eluvian and vanish.”

“You could do that. You _could_ decide to give up on me, disappear into the void, and return to your plan of destroying the world. I would like to think you would let me know first, but I _could_ see you doing that. If that were the case, I would unfortunately be forced to cross the world, hunting you. That’s a terrible amount of effort and I don’t have a great abundance of energy these days. I would rather you step through the portal with me and avoid any mishaps. If we cross through together, it will be clear to anyone watching that we are still allies. There are plenty within the Inquisition who will not be happy to see you again. Let’s avoid mishaps if we can, shall we?”

“Well met, Inquisitor.”

She looked at him curiously. “You do not need to call me that anymore. We are… I’m not sure, but you certainly don’t work for me anymore. And I worshipped you, or at least a certain version of you… It’s all very muddled. I’m not sure what rank would apply.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Leave that to Josephine. I know who you are to me. Let us go then. Skyhold awaits.”

They stepped through the eluvian, the strange feeling of rippling water setting her on edge again. She wanted to hold his hand as they walked through together, but decided at the last moment that it would be ill-advised. The Skyhold courtyard stretched out in front of them, plants bursting into bloom in the crisp mountain air. It felt like going home, or at least, as close to a home as she’d had since before Corypheus.

Solas nearly walked into a loaded crossbow.

“I never expected to see you again, Chuckles.” Varric Tethras turned to her then. “Do you want me to shoot him for you, Boss?”

She shook her head, trying to get between Solas and Bianca. “Stand down, Varric. That will be enough.”

“We were told to expect something from the eluvian. Harding said she would get the guards together, but I wanted to see to it personally. If I’m honest, I was worried for you. I’ve never much liked the Crossroads—smells too much like dead civilizations for me. Besides, I was concerned about the company you might be keeping. Seriously, Chuckles. Two years and not even a letter? I even was starting to like you.

“Besides… what you did to the Inquisitor. That’s just not right. And I should know.”

“Varric!” The Inquisitor was shocked, though she probably shouldn’t have been, by his lack of discretion. “I said enough!”

Solas lowered his head and smiled. “It is good to see you, my friend. I wish the circumstances were different.”

Varric shrugged. “I gave up on anything being easy a long time ago. It’s less disappointing that way. If you say you’re alright, then I’ll leave you to it. I think the Seeker is going to want to talk to you. Actually, now that you mention it, I imagine everyone will. I’m lucky I got to be the first, then.” He looked to Solas again. “Honestly, I’m glad we didn’t have to kill you. That would have been pretty gruesome, even for me.”

Varric started back to the castle, humming a tune she didn’t recognize.

She turned to Solas. “I would prefer not going into the main hallway right now. Let’s enter my chambers through the side passageway. I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

He hesitated, seemingly unsure.

She noticed a slight blush appear on his cheeks. She hadn’t seen that happen before. “Of course, I didn’t mean that! I just would like some privacy… I can have someone ready rooms for you. Adjacent to mine, preferably. In the meantime, my room will do well enough for the both of us. It isn’t like anyone in the Inquisition is unaware of our history together and gossip about our relationship may preoccupy the courtiers for a while. They get up to trouble when it isn’t in abundance. Wouldn’t want them asking questions that are actually useful”

He sighed, but seemed more than content following her into her bedroom.

\--

Solas held up a stack of sketches to her. “Ah, vhenan. I did not know that you enjoyed drawing.”

She felt her pale cheeks grow warm and imagined that they took on a shade of scarlet as deep as the drapery. _Shit. I had forgotten about those._ She tried to snatch them back from him, hoping to avoid any potential damage.  
  
“They’re nothing. Simple musings. Impressions. Nothing of import, really. I doubt they would be of interest to someone as talented as yourself.” She motioned towards the frescoes he had painted in her chambers before leaving Skyhold. One of the last ones he had finished, before he left. She had started sketching, in truth, after he had departed. She had drawn before, mostly of plants and animals to catalogue the land her clan dwelled throughout. Once she had planned on binding a book of her drawings, as educational material. Her drawings of him were different, intensely personal and quite secret. In her darker moments, she had wanted to preserve him in ink, in case the sketches would be the only tenuous connection she maintained. She held them to her chest at night, when exhaustion and alcohol was insufficient to lull her to sleep. Her comfort, her armor, her protection from the nights spent painfully alone. She had endured that suffering through the waking world when he had left without a trace. Part of her was still worried of a return to that fate.

“I find them all the more interesting knowing that you would hide them from me. Art is something I have a particular fascination with, but I promise that I will reserve criticism. Would you grant me your leave to look at them? I would not want to upset you unduly.”

She groaned. “Fine. If you put it like that. Just don’t tell Varric. Or Cassandra.”

He nodded, with a feigned solemnity. “I will take your secret to the grave.”

She tried to busy herself as he pored over her work. It was, thankfully, mostly pictures of their companions. She had a drawing of a buck that she completed in the Emerald Graves that she was particularly pleased with. The lighting had been perfect and that the animal had allowed her to sketch it was truly a gift.

There were others though, that she was more anxious about him seeing. Towards the back of the pile. She hoped he became distracted before then.

She had forgotten that Solas rarely ever exhibited anything even a shade close to boredom. “I believe this is a familiar countenance.” He held up a sketch she had done several years ago, after they had first met. He had seemed so serious then, so consumed with a sadness that he was unwilling to share. She had noted his expressions for days, practicing, trying to get his jaw right. All while trying to avoid him noticing that she was watching. His eyes were the hardest. They were sorrowful, yes, but the hope was the hardest to convey. In the portrait, he was just standing alone atop a mountain, leaning on his staff, as though it was the only thing supporting him. His apostate’s robe billowed behind him. In the image, he was powerful but alone. The scale of the scenery made him seem small. She supposed he must feel small, sometimes, given the weight of his responsibilities. That was before she truly loved him. He had just been a mysterious puzzle, one that she was only passingly interested in figuring out. Now she realized that he had been key the entire time.

She had wished he had told her earlier, but she also knew that she wouldn’t have understood. Not then. Not yet.

She became more eager to distract him, the farther he got into her work. “Would you like some refreshment? I think the rest of those are pretty dull, honestly. We could go for a walk, if you wish. Or we could go find Josephine. I’m sure she has news for us.”

He shook his head. “I’m quite content, actually. Besides, I think I have found something very illuminating right here.” Her face blanched as his smile widened. She knew what he had seen. “I didn’t realize you thought of me in such… detail.”

The portrait in question included him naked from the waist up, dressed only in a simple brown pair of breeches, the laces half undone. He was standing on top of a bear pelt and gesturing to someone outside of the frame. She remembered carefully crafting the curve of each muscle until she was satisfied with the outcome. His pale skin glowed in the candlelight of the portrait, occasional freckles breaking up his expanse of skin. She had drawn him more muscular than his robes revealed, but seeing him in the Crossroads made her think that her impressions were not far off from the truth. He was incredibly fit, despite seeming to enjoy draping himself in ill-fitting rags.

“I…” she stammered. “I will take that, if you don’t mind.”

He bowed to her slightly, extending the sketch to her outstretched arm. “Of course. I shall not keep it from you.” His grin turned suddenly wicked, glancing at her from over his shoulder. “But I must ask, did you spend many of your nights alone with that picture of me?”

She groaned. “Not all of us can just conjure whatever we want in the Fade. I’m sure your spirit friends would love to share your evening exploits with me. Mine just happen to be less… transient.”

He nodded. “If I am honest, which I will continue to try to be, I have missed you too. And have thought of you incessantly. Even against my better judgement.”

“For some reason I find that comforting.”

“I seem to have disturbed your resting. I can see if my rooms have been prepared, if you prefer.”

She nodded. “That might be the best course, for now. I need time to think. I will call on you in the morning, after we’ve had a chance to actually rest. Please don’t do anything that would anger me. I don’t think I could promise an overabundance of patience at the moment.”

\--

She found herself wandering, dressed in a light green cloak of the Inquisition. She always kept a spare or two, in case she wanted to roam unnoticed. It wouldn’t fool anyone of rank, nobody who actually knew her, but at least it would prevent the usual gawking. Thankfully her advisors had decided to give her some space, for now. She was sure they were aware of her presence. Probably his as well. Around Skyhold, little escaped Cassandra’s eyes. Even with Leliana gone, off to serve the faithful of Thedas, she was observant as ever. Varric had probably warned them that she wouldn’t be in the mood for speaking. Not yet, at least. For whatever intervention, divine or not, she was grateful.

She made her way across the battlements alone, until she found herself gravitating towards the Herald’s Rest. The sun was just beginning to set across the clouds, bathing Skyhold and the mountains beyond in a golden light. The fortress had become truly magnificent after years of housing the Inquisition—new towers and living quarters were constantly being erected and there was even a small town cropping up amongst the peaks. They were hard to reach, after Haven, but the Inquisition provided well for anyone willing to make the journey and to serve its cause.

It was still strange to think that people followed her. Especially with the variety she currently found at the Inquisition. _There are probably few organizations in Thedas that can boast members of every race and creed in their ranks_. She supposed that saving the world from destruction by an all-powerful corrupted would-be god had its benefits. She hoped she wouldn’t be required to do it again, as she thought suddenly of Solas. _His motivations were not the same, but the same description could have been applied to Solas._ She shuddered, imagining red lyrium sprouting from Solas’s shoulders, bastardizing his face. _I will not permit it. Whatever it takes_.

She brushed her thoughts aside, for now, and opened the heavy oak door. Firelight and laughter greeted her. To be around people, even if she was silent herself, tended to pull her thoughts from the grim places they tended to find themselves. She made her way across to the barkeep, asking for an ale. Something simple.

His eyes met hers and he nodded. “Of course. It will be ready in a moment.” It was part of their practiced routine. He had always been able to sense that she didn’t want to be exalted in her tavern. He seemed to realize, without ever hearing the words, that she needed to blend in with her people here. Oddly enough, in the Herald’s Rest, she shed the mantle of the Herald of Andraste. She was finally herself again, at least for a moment.

She took her flagon and sat alone, in a quiet corner on the second floor. She liked to be able to see the happenings on the ground, but sit apart from them. She was absently listening to a new song that was supposedly about the anchor that used to be on her hand, but suspected that it probably had a much bawdier interpretation. She was glad that at least someone was starting to see her as a person again, as opposed to some sort of divine object.

“Sovereign for your thoughts, Inquisitor?” Significant chest hair spilled out of Varric’s red tunic. He had sidled up to her while she had been distracted.

She shook her head, smiling slightly. “I wouldn’t ask such a price from a friend, Varric. They’re not interesting enough to warrant it anyway.”

He nodded. “I expected you would want someone to talk to. Someone who treats you less like a god or a commander.”

“I do appreciate that. Thank you for coming. I didn’t think I wanted to speak with anyone, but you’re right. It could help.”

“I’m always happy to help, then. So, you went to fight the Qunari and you brought back a cranky elf? I sense a story there. What was he even doing? I thought he had been avoiding you.”

She sighed. “It’s a long story.”

He gestured around, generically. “I don’t see the world ending just yet. I think we have time, for once.”

“I don’t know where to begin. There were lies. Quite a lot of them, in fact.”

“He should have known that that would hurt you the most. Out of everything he has done, choosing to lie to you was the cruelest.”

“I think he did know. I don’t think he had a choice. Or at least he didn’t think he did.”

“There is always a choice. And that’s coming from someone who typically makes the wrong ones.”

“You both have that in common, then.”

He smirked. “I knew I would find something, eventually.”

A sudden squeal erupted from the floor below. “IT’S THE CHAAAAAAAAMPION!” She heard the voices pick up below her as the patrons strained to get a look at him. She felt herself sinking even more deeply into her cloak.

She looked at Varric, trying to glean an explanation. “He’s a little late, but we were planning on meeting eventually. Hawke isn’t usually as careful to hide himself from his fans as you are, despite my repeated suggestions. I’ll go rescue him. You stay here. Try not to brood too much.”

He left, walking towards his friend as though he was facing down a demon.

“Come on, now everyone. Settle down. I’ll bring him back to you unharmed.”

“Varric! There you are. I was just beginning to tell them the story of when we faced down the Arishok…”

She heard her friend sigh, imaging him shaking his head into his hand. “You know I love a good tale as much as any other man, but we’ll need to save this one for later. For one, it’s not short. Second, you owe me at least a drink. And third, we have someone waiting for us.”

Eventually she heard two pairs of footsteps ascending the wooden stairs. Hawke was dressed in red, as usual, the symbol of Kirkwall embroidered in white across his armband and cloak. His hair had been cut more closely than he typically wore it and he had been keeping a beard. Clean lines, but enough to cover his face. It made him look older, more mature.

“Inquisitor! I didn’t see you there!” She gave him a menacing look, trying to shut him up. “Oh, I see. Disguises. I’ve never much had a penchant for those.” She found herself rolling her eyes. So much for maturity. And discretion.

“Sit down, Hawke, you’re making the Boss uncomfortable.” Varric pulled a chair out for his friend. “We were just on the subject of betrayed lovers. Something you and I are familiar with, if I recall correctly.”

Hawke nodded, playing with a tassel on his robe. “Yes, I would say I am an expert on the matter of unrequited love.”

Varric stopped him. “I don’t think ‘unrequited’ is the correct word to describe your situation.”

The Champion of Kirkwall sighed. “No, I suppose it isn’t. Perhaps ‘challenging’ would be more appropriate.”

The Inquisitor frowned. “Mind filling me in? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She was happy to pull the subject of conversation away from herself.

Varric nodded. “Sure, I’m guessing Hawke never deigned to tell you the story. That’s one he tends to keep close to his chest. Would you like me to go on?”

Hawke shrugged, sighing softly. She noticed that the mage’s usually playful countenance had somewhat sobered.

“Well, it all started with a job we got hired to do in Kirkwall. A dwarf named Anso paid us to find… Well I suppose it doesn’t really matter. It ended up being a trap, though not one made explicitly for us. We found our true patron soon enough—an escaped Tevinter slave covered in lyrium markings. Went by the name Fenris.”

She looked surprised. “Little wolf? He’s elven then?”

Hawke nodded. “By blood, if not by association. The process of gaining the markings rid him of his memories of any time with the elves. Any of that time was probably in bondage and best forgotten anyway. He served a Tevinter magister. Until he didn’t. Magisters don’t tend to take kindly to runaway slaves. They like to bring them back, dead or alive. We were, unfortunately, caught in the middle.”

Varric continued. “After helping us kill the men who were trying to kill him… You know, everyone was always killing each other in Kirkwall. Right there in the streets. Anywhere else it would have been a problem, but not in old Kirkwall. I think the citizens would have complained if the streets _weren’t_ covered in blood.

“Anyway, Fenris fell in with us and… our friend Hawke here… fell in too deep. If you can imagine, former slaves aren’t always the best at knowing how to reciprocate actual affection. Especially not when the object of their affection is a mage.” He chuckled. “Fenris does not like mages.”

“He would have died for me, in the end, despite everything. I did not want to see that happen.” Hawke’s voice was quieter than she’d ever heard it. She sensed a deep pain there, and did not wish to hurt him with her words.

She began slowly, trying to avoid hurting him. “I don’t mean to pry, but in our line of work it seems a bit inevitable. If we all decided to not care for anyone who might die for us, we would spend a lot of time drinking alone. From what you say, I doubt Fenris would be living a quiet life in the Hinterlands. He’ll probably be causing trouble at your side or not. I have a suspicion that I know where he would rather find himself.

“Selfishly, I have a proposition. We could use someone with knowledge of Tevinter in the Inquisition.”

Hawke looked around, acting suddenly nervous. “What are you implying?”

Varric smiled. “A formal request from the Inquisition. That would probably work, you know?”

Hawke’s jaw dropped. “No. You can’t. You can’t bring him here. I… don’t think I’m ready. How would I know what to say?”

Varric clapped him on the back. “Don’t worry. We can practice. I’ll pretend to be Broody and you can tell me how much you _love_ me. I’ll tell you how much of an idiot you are. It’ll be just like old times.”

She recognized the feeling in Hawke’s eyes. Longing, but also fear. He didn’t know what would happen. Neither did she. They both had a deep and inconvenient desire to be with someone with the uncanny abilities to cut them the most deeply.

“I’ll let you consider it, but you should give him a chance to come to his own decision. We nearly died in the Fade. I’m sure he would want to protect you from other dangers, if at all possible.”

Varric smiled wickedly at this. “Oh, he’s going to be pissed when I tell that one. How you threw yourself at a demon the size of a house and only the Inquisitor held you back from your own destruction.”

Hawke frowned, deeply. “Let’s not open with that story, if you don’t mind.”

She found herself laughing with Varric, despite of herself. “We can keep that one to ourselves for the first day or so, at least. We owe you that much.”

Hawke groaned and downed his ale.

She didn’t think it was possible, but she was starting to feel as though her plan wasn’t a desperate attempt to keep Solas from killing everyone. Maybe it could work. They might be able to save the elves and the world both. No matter her misgivings, at least it was worth trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for checking out the story! Excited to work with the characters of Thedas and share more with you all!


	3. Graceful Maneuvers

She entered the war council, uncertain what would be awaiting her there. She had postponed for long enough. Cassandra, Cullen, and Josephine would want to know what had occurred in the Crossroads. They would probably need to intervene to control the damage.

She was startled, however, when she saw a streak of red hair cloaked in black approaching her.

“Lel…” She paused, remembering. “Divine Victoria. We are honored by your presence.” 

“Cut the formalities. You need to explain to me what gave you cause to bring that apostate back into our midst. He’s a danger to our entire operation!”

She frowned. “I wasn’t aware that it was still ‘our’ operation, Leliana. I thought you had moved on to more pressing concerns.”

She saw a glint of ferocity pass through Leliana’s eyes. She was sure the Divine had learned to quench her more brutal instincts, but now she was doubtful. Leliana was still as frightening as Divine Victoria as she had been as the spymaster to the Inquisition. Possibly more frightening, even, despite her usual practiced air of calm indifference. “I did not leave the Inquisition to watch you destroy it.”

She stepped towards the Divine, steeling herself. “Whatever you may think, I do not intend for the Inquisition to collapse. Solas meant to break apart Thedas. He is a much better ally than an enemy.”

Cassandra decided to intervene. “Be that as it may, Inquisitor, he has not exactly given reason to trust him. What makes you believe he is being honest with his intentions this time?”

She turned to the Seeker. “That he came at all is a good sign. He did not need to.”

Cullen stepped forward, towards the intricately carved table. “He could just be interested in spying on our affairs.”

She waved a hand. “Solas has spies enough in the Inquisition. He was with us since the beginning. I do not think being here would serve his purposes if he did not intend to aid us again.”

“That is… troubling,” Cassandra spoke, shaking her head. “I thought we would be done, after Corypheus. Then this business with the Qunari. Evidently, there’s now an ancient elven plot we need to contend with.”

Cullen laughed, lightly. “What, were you looking to retire, Seeker? I do not think that has ever been an option for us.”

Cassandra nodded. “No. I knew that wish was too much to hope for when I joined the Seekers of Truth. If I had wanted an easy life, I would have stayed in Nevarra.”

Cullen looked at her then, thoughtfully. “You chose not to abandon me when I was in the throes of lyrium addiction. I can see why you would choose to try and save Solas, despite the danger.”

Cassandra turned to Leliana again. “We will watch him, your Holiness. He will not move against us.”

Leliana had not taken her eyes off of the Inquisitor during the exchange. She could feel the sting of them on her, accusing and forceful. “Do not think to get between him and me, if the time comes. I would hate to kill you for defending him.” 

“Leliana, you know that it is not within my strength to grant that promise.”

Cullen stepped between them. “We said we would watch him, Leliana! I do not know what more you would have us do. It’s honestly better having him here, under our eyes, than gallivanting across Thedas. At least we will have insight into his movements, if nothing else.”

Josephine frowned, furiously scribbling notes on her parchment. “This will require… delicate explanations to our allies. It would be better, I think, if they did not know the truth of his involvement. I believe all who know of his true intentions are either dead or in this castle. I would like to keep it that way.”

She shrugged. “You’ll need to speak with Varric. He already knows the truth of the matter and isn’t prone to keeping quiet about anything. He probably has already written an entire series on it.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I will speak with him, then.”

Leliana frowned, but seemed appeased for the time being. “I will allow this. For now. Know that your eyes will not be the only ones on him, however. I have an organization of my own to think of now. If he tries to betray us again… It will not end well for him.” She nodded at the Inquisitor before turning and leaving the room, softly as a whisper.

“Well, Inquisitor, it seems we’re back to bickering as usual. I presume you have some sort of a plan in mind?” Cullen seemed ready to move on to other topics and away from the ominous idea of treachery in their midst.

“I do, indeed. Though I think we should bring in others more suited to argue its merits.”

Cassandra nodded. “Who would you have me gather?”

She thought. “Varric and Dorian would be prudent. Hawke too, if you can find him around somewhere. And Solas really should be here, if we’re finished speaking of him.”

“I think we can be. For now, at least.” Cassandra turned. “It will gather them, then.”

\--

It seemed the meeting was finally at an end. Plans had been proposed, shot down, and revisited a few hours later. Their first order was to acquire some agents who would be valuable to the mission. Varric suggested a few names from back in his time in Kirkwall. Hawke had turned away at the name of his former lover, but had said nothing to object. They would find Fenris and the Dalish elf Merrill. The pair seemed like they would be valuable allies, given their knowledge of Tevinter and the Dales. Their hours absorbed in arguing gave them all the conclusion that what they needed was more information.

She was resting her head in her hand, her left elbow laying gently on her thigh, trying to absorb it all. _Are we really trying to topple a hierarchy that has existed for thousands of years? To free my people? And why would the Inquisition care to support such ventures?_ She smiled at that. Her friends had always had a strong sense of justice. Even if some of them would like to pretend otherwise.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed a shadow moving towards her. Silent footfalls and long robes brushing against the stone of the hall. She looked up to see him there, as though he had never left. Solas extended a hand to her and she graciously accepted.

“I wanted to see how the morning’s activities left you feeling. It is quite an endeavor you are embarking on. The burden must be great indeed.” He smiled at her, gently, as he helped her to her feet. “Would you like to walk with me?”

She nodded. She _did_ think some fresh air could calm her frazzled nerves. Too long spent beneath the vaulted ceilings of Skyhold and the history of the building would often leave her dizzy. To be out in the world reminded her of simpler times amongst her people. Before the world came to rely on her for anything more than catching dinner.

They walked for nearly three miles outside of the stronghold in silence, just enjoying the feeling of the wind and sun. The breeze was crisp, but not unkindly so. Autumn was just beginning to show in the mountains and the trees were starting their change from the gentle greens of summer to the resplendent reds and golds of fall. She marveled that such beauty could exist in the world, even after all of the horrible events that had happened. Such was the way of nature, she supposed. People would destroy it in their greed, but it would always knit itself together again.

“A bit like spirits, in that way,” Solas replied, as though she had spoken aloud.

“Were you listening to me, just now? My thoughts, I mean.”

He considered briefly. “No, not truly. I felt a shadow of a sentiment and… guessed the nature of your thoughts. It seems that I was correct, then?”

"Eerily so,” she replied.

“I am sorry. I will try not to do that again, if it upsets you.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s quite alright.”

She noticed that he was looking at her. She couldn’t exactly place the expression. Something like wistfulness perhaps?

“Have you thought more about what it might take for me to engender your favor again?”

_Ah. It was more akin to hope, after all._

She looked away from him, towards the mountains and back up at Skyhold. The lights were just starting to flicker on, giving the castle a shimmering look. “I have thought on it. And I have reached a conclusion.”

He raised his eyebrows and moved in front of her again. “Oh? Do you plan on telling me or will you force me to guess at your intentions?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s simple really. I’ll trade you.”

Solas seemed puzzled. “What gift could I possibly give that you could not acquire on your own?”

“You have a great many gifts you could give me. I would have them all.” She took his hand again. “You hid your past from me before. Now I would know everything. The truth of it all. Your secrets. Your motivations. Your battles. Your losses. Who did you love? What did you build? Who were the Evanuris, truly? What was Arlathan like? Where did my people come from? Why did the Veil destroy us? I would have you answer these questions and any others I have. I have a great deal of them.”

He laughed, not unkindly. “I should have known. You have always shown a great thirst for knowledge. I thought it would bore you, but you asked questions endlessly. And I was always happy to explain. At least parts of the truth, anyway.”

She shook her head. “I will not have just parts anymore. I will have it all.”

“Vhenan, you do not realize the nature of your request. I have lived hundreds of lifetimes longer than we will have together. It will take… I don’t know if I will ever finish before you…”

She cut him off, preferring he didn’t linger on the concept of her mortality. “Then you should probably stop protesting and begin speaking.”

He sighed. “It is a gentle request of you. You know I already like to speak of my travels. It is a softer punishment than I deserve.”

She looked at him from the corner of her eyes. “What would you have me do, then? Lock you in chains?”

His eyes seemed to sparkle and a wicked grin crossed his lips. “That wouldn’t necessarily be unpleasant, either.”

She rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous, although somehow slightly alluring image that sprung to her mind at that suggestion. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his suggestion _did_ have some merit.

“I’m waiting.” She stood still, as though moving would disrupt the chances of her receiving the answers she sought.

“I know. I accept your arrangement. I will fulfill your wishes to the best of my abilities. Truthfully, this time. I can meet you tonight, if you would like. Then we can begin in earnest.”

Her brow furrowed as she looked at him. “Why would you have me wait? You just said that it would take an eternity to explain.”

It seemed as though he just remembered something. “Oh, you thought I would explain the nature of my entire existence here?” He laughed in earnest then, shoulders shaking. “That would be as easy as pulling down the moon from the sky. No, vhenan. If I am to do this correctly, I would show you.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean…”

“I do. The Fade. It will be far easier to explain if we’re doing more than speaking.”

She nodded. _This at least, will be interesting._ And she believed that he could hide less of himself in the Fade. Words can easily hide lies, but the Fade reflects thoughts and memories. He was more of an expert than anyone she had known, but she guessed that even he couldn’t keep many secrets from her there.

“Then we have a deal?” He extended her hand for him to shake. She hesitated, not sure if she was ready to feel the warmth of him in the real world. Still uncertain if she had made the right decision.

She banished the thoughts away and took his hand, a tiny ripple of energy crossing from his fingertips to hers. “We do.”

\--

As they returned to Skyhold, she saw that a feast was being laid out. She found Dorian wandering about, a glass of wine his hand.

“What is this all about?”

He gestured to the room. “This? Oh, Josephine insisted that we should celebrate your return as well as the disruption of the Qunari plot. And I suppose him as well.” He nodded in Solas’s general direction. “It _is_ good to see you. Vivienne doesn’t entirely approve of my use of magic and tends to just ignore me to the best of her abilities. Which are considerable.”

Solas was attempting a frown, but she saw that the corners of his mouth were upturned. It was easy to capture his attention with just the slightest mention of magic. “You made it sound as though I approve of your methods of using magic. I can’t imagine what would lead you to that assumption.”

Dorian smiled in earnest. “Ah yes, I missed that too. At least you allow me to speak my turn, instead of leaving in a huff the minute I mention anything even tangentially related to necromancy.”

“One of my finer qualities, I suppose.”

“Certainly. I also see that you’ve developed at least a _slightly_ less offensive taste in fashion.” The Tevinter mage turned to her. “Is this your doing?”

“Not really,” she admitted. In truth, she hadn’t been paying much attention to his clothing. His face held enough intrigue for her. She looked at him then, realizing suddenly that he had changed since they had entered the castle. She wasn’t sure how it was possible—as she had been by his side the entire time.

She noted that while he wasn’t wearing the armor that she had seen him in previously, neither had he reverted to his old wardrobe. This was something in between. The cut was simple, as usual, but she noticed embellishments he would not have normally afforded himself when he was pretending to be Solas the apostate. The cloth looked to be made of pure silver, but she imagined that it was as soft as down. When he moved, the fabric itself seemed to change. In the candlelight, she could almost make out a scene—a pack of wolves chasing after something along his back. She blinked and the effect was gone.

He was wearing magic.

“I no longer feel the need to hide myself.”

“Ah, so _unwashed apostate hobo_ was just a phase then?”

He nodded, a wry look on his face. “Something like that.”

Dorian nodded. “Well, I will leave you to it, then. I need more wine and I think that soldier over there has been making eyes at me during this entire exchange. I will need to set him down gently. If you’ll excuse me.” He turned to confront a young man in Inquisition green. The lad was slender and youthful, a little too young for Dorian’s tastes as she understood them. Though he didn’t exactly seem to be discouraging him.

“Chuckles!” She turned to see that in the moment she had been focusing on Dorian, Varric had come from seemingly nowhere and wrapped Solas in an embrace. The latter seemed quite unsure what to do about the situation and decided on stiffly patting the shorter man on the back.

Hawke followed shortly afterwards, an apologetic look on his face. “We had started drinking before the food arrived. I knew it was a bad decision to let him drink before eating anything.”

Varric smiled. “What can I say? I have no fondness for the Vints, but I love their liquor.” He turned suddenly to Solas. “You know what? We never had our rematch before you _disappeared_!”

“I thought that you had your fill of embarrassment.”

Hawke looked to her, confused.

“I think they’re talking about Wicked Grace,” she said.

Varric nodded. “What else? As it just so happens, I have a pack of cards right here! Always keep it with me, close to my heart.”

Hawke interrupted his friend. “I didn’t think you had a heart, Varric.”

“Well that may be true.” He pulled the cards out of his breast pocket. “What do you say, Chuckles? Let me try again?”

To her surprise, Solas smiled. “I think this is something I can handle.”

“Actually, I think we should sweeten the deal a little. Make things interesting.”

Solas turned his head slightly. “Oh? What was it you had in mind?”

Varric pulled a chair from the long table and sat down. “Well… You see, after you left, I had a bit of a dry spell. With my writing that is.” Varric called out for Cassandra. “Hey, Seeker, get over here!”

The normally sullen warrior approached with a confused grin. “Is there something that you need, Varric, or are you just bothering me for your own entertainment?”

“Do you remember that book I lent you a few months back? The draft I was having you read for me?”

She looked at the Inquisitor and then back at Solas. “Oh… um… It was a little hard to forget.”

“What is it Cassandra?” She was suddenly very curious about this mysterious novel and what would make Cassandra seem to suddenly find something very intriguing about the floor.

“Well, the book was… a bit explicit… for my tastes.”

Varric laughed knowingly. “And that’s saying something. In light of recent events I decided to call it ‘The Prophet and the Apostate’. Think of it as an honor.” He feigned a bow towards the elf.

She turned to look at Solas. _If he gets any paler, he’s going to disappear completely._ His expression was one of abject horror. “You did no such thing.”

Cassandra looked embarrassed. “Oh, he did. It was…” she turned to the Inquisitor. “I couldn’t look at you for a week.”

“You READ IT?!” She and Solas roared synchronously, glaring at Cassandra and Varric in equal turns.

The seeker shrugged, her face coloring. “The plot was rather compelling, all things considered. And it wasn’t _overtly_ about you. It was just… strongly implied.” _Cassandra blushing. Now that’s something I haven’t often had the pleasure to see. Though it_ would _be nicer if it weren’t at my expense._

Solas cleared his throat. “What does this have to do with anything, dwarf?”

Varric seemed injured by the epithet. “Hey now. I said I had a wager in mind. You beat me again at Grace and, against my better judgement, I don’t send it to my publisher.”

Solas gripped the chair so tightly, she thought it would splinter in his hands. “You would not dare.”

The Inquisitor extended her left hand towards Varric and he shook it, quickly. “Deal. Solas will accept your offer on my behalf.”

Solas turned to her, the color, albeit a particularly rosy one, returning to his face. “You cannot be seriously considering this.”

She shook her head. “I’m not considering it. I’ve already placed the bet for you.”

“Those are terrible conditions! We didn’t even set our own terms!” He rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“If Solas wins, I keep the book for myself. All of the copies.”

Varric nodded. “You strike a hard bargain, boss, but I’m willing to accept.”

She began to walk away, Solas still fuming. She turned over her shoulder to call out to him. “Just make sure you win and there shouldn’t be any problems!”

“Fenedhis lasa…” She caught him cursing behind her and stifled a laugh. _My ancient elven is missing quite a bit of vocabular, but I think he just told me to go fuck a wolf. I’ll try not to dwell on the implications of that particular phrase._

\--

She returned, nearly half an hour later, drinks in hand. She had gotten caught up in a conversation with Josephine and some Orlesian noble, telling her all about some strange Orlesian party they had attended together. It sounded oddly like some sort of orgy, with a sprinkling of assassinations. Orlais was an odd place.

She pulled out the chair next to Solas and turned it around, sitting backwards on it, her chest against the wooden frame. She placed a flagon of ale next to him.

“You know I don’t drink. Besides, I need to be at least somewhat coherent if I’m supposed to get us out of this mess you landed us in.”

Varric sat across from them, looking pleased with himself, his fingers forming a tent. “Come on, Chuckles. I think it might actually help you this time.”

Solas decided not to argue and gingerly took a sip, as though he was drinking tea. The look on his face soured immediately as he nearly spit it out. “ _This_ is what you call ale? This is revolting.”

Varric smiled at that. “Oh, I didn’t realize that in your travels you became a connoisseur of the finer aspects of life. I imagined you spent most of your time sleeping on a rock and talking to yourself.”

“Here,” she offered her glass. “You might find this more suitable. It’s a bit lighter. I wasn’t sure what you would be interested in.”

He took the glass from her hand and obliged. “Yes.” He nodded. “Much better. Is this mead? I rather enjoy it.”

“Good, we can have them open another cask for you.”

He placed a card on the table with a slight flourish. “No need. Angel of death.” He looked expectantly at Varric. “Show me.”

Varric’s smile was wicked. “I have you. Four songs. Twilight. Autumn. Temerity. Mercy.” He flipped the appropriate card as he spoke each word in turn.

A wide grin emerged on Solas’s face, showing his teeth with a slight air of menace. “No, I believe that it is I who have you.”

Varric’s face dropped slightly. “But… how?”

Solas looked at her and smiled, extending his hand towards Varric. “Four angels. The Inquisitor will have that book now.”

A voice seemingly came from nowhere. “He would not have won that hand without cheating.” The air seemed to blur and suddenly a young man with an overly large hat flopped down next to her.

"Cole!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around the boy as he seemed to melt into her.

“I didn’t think he was coming back. His thoughts disappeared for so long. I know he didn’t want to leave, but I didn’t think there was enough to make him stay.”

Varric wasn’t paying attention to her display of affection or Cole’s words to the Inquisitor. “What was that you said about cheating?”

Cole looked at him as though he could see through the dwarf and into the wall behind. “He changed the suits of his cards after you showed yours. He had two serpents and three daggers. He would not have changed their appearance if he had possessed the winning hand.”

Solas groaned. “What have I told you about reading _my_ thoughts?”

Cole looked dejected. “I thought I was helping.”

Varric grinned. “Oh, don’t let him discourage you. You were a tremendous help. Tell you what, Solas. I’ll give you this one. The Inquisitor can have the book. That look on your face is compensation enough.” He paused, rubbing his chin. “You know, if you were a dwarf, you would make an excellent addition to the Merchant’s Guild. It’s a real shame. We could have been partners! That would have gotten the Carta off my back… Anyway. I better head off. I’m starting to sober up.”

He rose with a slight belch and Hawke stood suddenly, as though he was worried his friend wouldn’t make it to the door unassisted.

She shared a look with Solas and stood up herself. “I should be getting on as well. I need to catch up on my sleep. I’ve had precious little of late.”

Solas looked slightly uncomfortable being left alone with their comrades. She gave him a pointed look. “I need some help… deciphering some ancient elven texts. Would you mind lending your assistance?”

Cassandra broke into a sudden, uncharacteristic peal of laughter. “I’m sorry…” Cassandra seemed struggling to speak through her giggling. “It’s just… that seems almost as though…”

Solas looked ready to mount a retort, but she pulled him along by his arm, off to his chambers. “Come on, now. I don’t want you lighting my table on fire over this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support on this journey so far! I am honestly still quite baffled that folks are taking the time to read it. 
> 
> I absolutely loved writing this chapter. It was probably my favorite, until, of course, Chapter 4. For very different reasons.
> 
> One day I'll get Solas well and truly drunk.
> 
> Dareth shiral. Until next time.
> 
> Elvish translations:  
> Fenedhis lasa: Common curse, rough translation is "go fuck a wolf's dick". Likely analogous to "go fuck yourself"


	4. Faded for Her

She shuffled back to her room, a gentle smile across her face. The evening had felt strange. Like they had all been thrust backwards in time, to a period where life made more sense. When they all had the same goals. Close the rifts. Seal the breach. Kill Corypheus. Save anyone they could. She had noticed subtle distinctions in her friends’ manner. Varric seemed the only one ready to jest about Solas, and she suspected it was something of a coping mechanism. The others weren’t entirely sure what to make of the prodigal mage. 

It was easier for them to pretend that he had never thought to betray them all, in the end. That he was sullen, cryptic, and proud, but he was their friend regardless. They seemed willing, for a time, to forget the events of the past two years. To let them lie dormant, until absolutely necessary. 

She had noticed a change in him as well. His outward appearance had changed subtly—his clothes growing more regal, as though he was finally showing them all a glimpse of his identity. _Fen’Harel_ _. He was a god once, or close enough to it to make no difference._ Yet the changes had only been slight. He did not seem willing to embrace everything his name meant. 

There were other changes, too. He smiled more freely, laughed more openly. He didn’t seem torn between two worlds any longer. She wanted to believe that he had chosen her, chosen _her_ world over the one of his past. She knew that it was unfair to speak the words out loud, but she was also convinced that the past he once sought would never truly be his again. Destruction without any deliverance. 

She slipped out of her Inquisition uniform and into a simple shift and breeches. She went to close the balcony doors, to staunch the breeze flowing into her room. The light from the room adjacent to hers, now belonging to Solas, caught her eye. _Ancient elven texts_ _, I told them_ . _In truth, he_ _probably is deciphering_ _something of the sort at this very moment. Cassandra would probably laugh if she knew the truth was exactly as I told her._

He couldn’t see her or else was too absorbed to register her presence. She stood there for a moment, waiting, the wind billowing her shift. He turned the pages of a giant tome slowly, as though afraid he would damage the hidden knowledge it contained. His brow furrowed, his fingers absently touching his chin. _I’m surprised he hasn’t already read every book in_ _Skyhold_ _._

She wanted to go to him, to call out. A sliver of her reached for him, but the stronger part stayed her hand. She knew it wouldn’t be wise. There was no way she could really trust herself around him yet. It had only been two days, but it felt as though everything had changed. Even the air felt different to her. For a time, she had felt a metallic sting whenever her thoughts drifted towards him. Now she found herself thinking only of his warmth, particularly as the cold began to send a shiver down her spine. 

She had to tell herself that checking every minute to see if he was still real was unrealistic. Not to mention time consuming. 

There was just something still that kept her from believing. 

She turned from his window and back to the balcony doors, crossing what felt like a great distance in less than five strides. Her bed was beckoning. She lowered herself down, slowly. She would need to talk to Solas about trying to fix her arm one day. It was incredibly inconvenient to be missing it. 

She sighed, staring at the ceiling for a moment, before sleep took her again. 

\-- 

She opened her eyes, surprised that morning had already come. 

Then she noticed the soft green glow and remembered her deal with Solas. 

Forgiveness for knowledge. A fair trade. 

The air shimmered around her as the Fade reformed. An instant later, he was there. 

“You found me so quickly. I didn’t even realize you had gone to sleep! Your light was still on but a moment ago.” 

He looked at her with such fondness that she felt a little weak. “I felt you enter the Fade and I followed. It’s as simple as that. Also, time can pass quite unexpectedly in the Fade.” 

“Isn’t the Fade even more expansive than our world? You managed to find me in all of this?” She turned around, arms in the air, gesturing towards everything. 

He nodded, beckoning her to come closer. “It is indeed. It’s quite easy to find someone that you have any sort of… connection with. The Fade has always seemed to me to want to bring people together, especially when they long to find each other.” 

She turned her head from him, braiding and unbraiding her hair. “Is that how you found me, before?” 

His brow knitted together, puzzlement on his face. “I’m not sure what you mean.” 

She met his eyes again. “I had dreams... I was looking for something, or someone. Sometimes through the forest, sometimes through the desert, sometimes through a city I didn’t recognize.” She paused, worried. “There was a wolf. Large and black, with glowing golden eyes. Those eyes that seemed to have mourned a thousand deaths. Haunted.” 

The Fade rippled again, and Solas was replaced by the wolf from her dreams. He was even larger up close—his head reached her chest. His eyes were the same as she remembered, proud and sad. He spoke to her without moving his mouth, directly into her thoughts. “I wanted to see you. To make sure you were still alive. That you didn’t suffer.” 

She frowned, looking away again. “You think I didn’t suffer? Whenever I came close to catching you, you would vanish and I would awake alone. Is that a mercy to you?” 

The wolf brushed his nose against her arm, nuzzling what was left of her. He was a massive creature, but somehow he felt more vulnerable in this form than he had even as an elf. 

She felt him changing back before she saw it. The air became warm, thrumming with magic as he transformed. The wolf was gone, leaving behind a man again. He was on his knees still, head in her hand. She raised his face enough to see his eyes and knelt to his level. 

“I never thought of your world as real, until you followed me into the Crossroads. That action changed me. I never thought someone would learn the truth, of all of my sins, and still think that there is something left to save. 

“For a while, I thought that the only reason that you understood me—seemed to care for me even—was due to the anchor. The magic was part of my… essence. I thought that perhaps it had bound you to me. That I had involuntarily subjected you to my service. That was my suspicion, though I believe my heart knew it was misguided. The lie I told myself allowed me to continue executing my plan. Until I decided that I needed to save you from the anchor. I thought your feelings for me would end with that. But when I removed the piece of me that resided within your body, you still followed. 

“And that,” he started, “was more than I deserve.” 

Her eyes welled with unbidden tears. 

“You are wrong, Solas. You are more deserving of happiness than anyone I have ever met.” She pulled his face to hers, gently. His eyes shut as she noticed that they weren’t entirely dry either. She wrapped her arm around him and kissed him as though she would never get the chance again. He seemed hesitant at first, almost shy. Then he leaned into her, arms wrapping around her back, and she had felt the warmth she had been craving. 

“Promise me that you will stay, this time.” Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

“Ma nuvenin. Ar lath ma, vhenan.” He kissed her again, fiercely. Her legs went numb. If not for his arms around her, she would have fallen. “I am sorry. I will not leave you again. All the demons, from this world or the other, could not keep me from you. This I swear.” 

She had no words in response, preferring to simply sink against him, burying her face against his chest to hide her tears. 

For once, he seemed content to allow the silence to stretch between them. 

\-- 

She stirred first, realizing that if she was not the one to break the spell, they were just as likely to stay entranced forever. _He did sleep for a_ _millennia_ _. Time does not trouble him as it might._

“You must think me terrible at bartering,” she said, catching his eyes. He had been looking at her for some time, most likely. 

“It is I who seem to be at fault in this instance. I have yet to fulfill my promise, despite you beginning the slow process of granting yours. Though I had rather hoped you wouldn’t withhold your forgiveness until my end was complete.” 

“I always seem to give you the simpler portion of the deal.” 

“In many ways, yes.” He brushed her hair, absently. “What would you like to know?” 

She cocked her head, considering. “You would permit my request? Anything I ask?” 

He nodded, smiling. “It is for you that I do this. If I think that the story would be better told another way, I would let you know. I would like to hear your interests first. If nothing else, it will allow me to know you better.” 

She thought on it. _I could ask him anything, it seems. All the mysteries my people have sought are at my fingertips. None of the_ _Dalish_ _have ever held this power._ She thought of asking him of the fall of Arlathan , of how he came to hide away the Evanuris, but reconsidered. _Let us not start with pain. He holds enough of it as it is._

“Let’s start with something simple, then. Tell me of how you are able to change your shape.” 

He laughed, softly. He smiled as he shook his head. “Simple, you say? Recounting history would be far easier than what you ask.” 

“Tell me then. This is what I wish to hear.” 

He nodded, pulling her to his side, freeing his right hand from underneath her. He held it out to the Fade. “To understand this, you must know of my origins.” A glowing golden light emanated from his palm. “My people,” he paused, correcting himself. “Our people were not always born in the manner that is prevalent in your time. We emerged from a different material. You are actually quite familiar with this. One of our companions came to us in the same way.” 

She nodded, realization coming. “You mean Cole? You were a spirit, then? Before…” 

“I was. A spirit born out of the pride of our people, shortly after construction of Arlathan was completed. Our civilization was entering its apex and I was the spiritual manifestation of that emotion.” 

Her face knotted in confusion. “You were a spirit of Pride? I have known them only as demons.” 

He frowned, sadly. “In your world, spirits of pride are often bastardized. Turned against their nature into greed. In the Fade, things are less skewed by morality. Though, there are examples of unblemished pride in your world. Think on a parent, gazing after their child as they learn to walk, speak, and think. Pride does not always manifest as evil.” 

“I understand,” she conceded. “If you were a spirit, how did you come to inhabit a physical form, then?” 

“While being confined to a body can be physically limiting, being a spirit can hamper one’s ability to change.” The golden shape became less amorphous, changing into a butterfly, before reverting to its original state. 

“Oh? I thought that spirits would be able to change the world much more freely than an embodiment.” 

“Change the world, yes. Spirits, however, cannot change their nature. They are in many ways less complicated than people. If they try to go against their nature, either by their own will or by an external force, they become corrupted and lose their original purpose. This is where the demons you are familiar with arise.” The golden shape turned dark and monstrous, protrusions of smoke, thrusting towards her. “We saw this, together, when Wisdom died.” 

She remembered the death of Solas’s friend. How the event had haunted him. She had not realized that fate could have easily been his as well, under different circumstances. 

“You wanted to change?” 

He nodded. With a flick of his wrist, the golden shape returned to its original form. “I came to consciousness in the height of Elvhenan, but I knew, even in an incorporeal form, that we could eventually fall. I had a sense that there was something brewing that I could not understand without changing my nature. I wanted to protect the People from that fate. So I sought a body.” 

“What do you mean, ‘sought’?” 

He thought for a moment. “Perhaps not the correct term. You asked me how I changed my form? When a spirit gains enough of a consciousness and a desire to change, they can choose to take a body. It is hard to explain to someone who has always been in their form, but I will try. 

“Eventually my will to protect overcame my desire to maintain my spiritual form. Spirits are, obviously, not bound to a particular physical object. This change was the easiest for me. We can simply manifest a body from our own desire to have one. It was as simple as breathing. After that, the changes were harder.” 

The glowing golden shape disappeared, and suddenly they were staring at another version of Solas. Different, in many ways, but largely the same as the man she found sitting next to her. He seemed ages younger, which she remembered, he would have been. His eyes did not seem to hold the endless depths of sadness that she had known. Instead, determination marked his features. 

She stood, to better examine the vision. Other than the age, his face was largely unchanged. Unlike the Solas she knew, this shade wore his hair in dark, cascading braids, the sides of his head shorn. It was all held in place by a skull, lupine in origin. His teeth seemed rather more pointed as well and his eyes shone like polished gold. She could see from where his other moniker had emerged. 

“The wolf made flesh,” she said, her voice quiet and contemplative. 

She noticed a glint of steel at his back. The younger Solas carried both a sword and his usual staff. 

She looked back at him, smiling. “I never knew you to wear a blade. Did you even know how to wield it?” 

A smirk crossed his face. “I should have known you would comment on that. My duties were to protect against attacks, both magical _and_ physical. I was much more martial in my past.” 

She laughed at that. “I would have asked to spar with you if I had thought you could serve as a challenge.” 

He glanced at her right arm, or rather, where it would have been. “I haven’t done so in a long time, though in your current state I may be able to defeat you.” 

She frowned. “That’s entirely unfair.” 

“One day, we can spar. You can teach me how to do it properly. I’ve never tried without a little assistance from the Fade to quicken my movements.” 

“I look forward to it.” She turned back to the shade, extending her hand towards it. She was surprised to find it as solid as a body in her world would have been. “How am I able to…” 

“It’s a manifestation of my memories, brought to life by the magic resident in the Fade. I doubt I could make anything so lifelike in the waking world, but I have not tried.” 

She reached up to touch the shade’s hair, finding it surprisingly soft. 

“Why did you appear to us the way you did, if this is your true form?” 

“’True form’ is bit misleading,” he said. The Fade shimmered again, and suddenly her Solas was a perfect reflection of his memory. “I thought this version of me would be a bit more intimidating. Cassandra nearly took off my head as it was. I did not wish to give even more of a reason to suspect me of anything sinister. 

“As to your previous question, I mentioned that changing forms as a spirit is just a matter of thought. Or will, rather. You can’t just think of something to change it—you do need to have something of a desire. That requires a rather advanced spirit, not all those you encounter in the Fade will be able to do it. They have no true wants other than fulfilling their original purpose. This is usually not enough to elicit a change of physical manifestation. 

“Altering yourself when you have a physical body is more challenging still than anything a spirit would experience. You need to clear your mind of all physical sensations and imagine yourself as _outside_ of the body you typically inhabit. If you are still attached to your body mentally, the shift is nearly impossible. After you are able to master this level of detachment, only then can you alter your physical form.” 

She nodded, considering. Trying to understand. “Would I be able to learn?” 

He scratched his ear, thinking. “I had not thought it possible, but you have already shown me many other impossibilities. Perhaps with time you could take another form, if you wished.” 

“Would you be able to take on this form, even in our world?” She gestured to the shade he had created before her and his new body. 

He nodded. “I did not think you would find it this appealing.” 

She smiled. “It was just an academic question, though it does have a certain charm. There’s a bit of wildness that you seem very preoccupied with suppressing.” 

He smiled, a small laugh rising. “I was much more prone to the whims of passion in my youth.” 

“Oh? Is that so?” 

He looked at her from the side of his eyes, one corner of his mouth upturned, a single eyebrow raised. “Not like that, vhenan. I simply meant that I was hot-headed. I served my emotions much more than I do now.” 

She returned his smile, playfully. “I would like to see more of that, in the future. Allowing your emotions to run rampant.” 

He shook his head, chin in his hand, looking at her sideways. “I think that this is enough for now. It’s best we…” 

She cut him off, pressing her lips against his, softly as a summer breeze. “Wake up,” she said. 

With that, her eyes fluttered open. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, as always.
> 
> Lovely Fen'Harel warmup sketch by the infallable [Lethendralis](https://lethendralis-paints.tumblr.com)! Go give her hugs!
> 
> Elvish translations:  
> Ma nuvenin: As you wish/As you say  
> Ar lath ma, vhenan: I love you, my heart


	5. Tendrils of Power

Her stare was so intent on her breakfast it was though she was trying to consume all of its nutrients through her eyes.

In truth, she was trying to imagine herself outside of her own body. Despite her utter lack of apparent magical talent, the ability to change her appearance appealed to her. _It would make it easier for me to get around Skyhold unseen, if nothing else._

A knock on her door caused her to jump from her chair. It clattered to the ground as she cursed. She used her good arm to lift it back up again, but ended up pushing it too hard to the other side. She quickly grabbed it before balancing the chair on the floor. She took a deep breath, bringing her attention back into her body. _Perhaps it was working then, this attempt at detachment. I may not have made any progress towards shapeshifting, but I seem to have lost all control of my limbs._

She maneuvered towards the door, her mouth in a tight line.

“Good morning,” an altogether too cheery voice greeted her. Her jaw dropped. Solas had decided to appear in his ancient form, here, in Skyhold. His attire looked more that of a warrior, dressed for travel, as opposed to an ancient elven scholar. His tunic was cut far lower than she was used to, exposing the skin underneath. He was somehow more tanned than usual, as well, despite her awareness that he spent the majority of his time inside. She noted that he carried the sword from the Fade, a glittering weapon with a hilt carved in the shape of a wolf. “I trust you slept well,” he remarked, with a wry smile.

“How are you so chipper this morning?”

He seemed to be humming with energy. “After a while you learn to draw energy from the Fade. It shouldn’t leave you exhausted, with practice. You must have been focusing too hard.”

She muttered a curse in response. “I was trying to pay attention! I am surprised you came to call on me so early. I thought you would have tired of me by now. We spent all night together.”

He shook his head, smiling still. “In a sense, yes. I do not believe I have ever grown weary of your company. Though our meeting this morning should be brief. I was just informed that Scout Harding has managed to locate both of Varric’s old friends. Merrill is in the Kirkwall alienage, where she’s apparently set up a makeshift school to educate children with magical talents. In her free time, she’s been tending to the city’s infirm. Meanwhile, there have been reports of a string of murders in the Free Marches.”

She turned her head. “Murders?”

He nodded. “Of Tevinter slavers.”

“Fenris.”

“Hawke seems to think so.”

That settles it then. They would be off to the Marches. Her mind flickers to provisions, “How long will the preparations take?”

“Cassandra has been preparing since your arrival. We should be ready to depart today, if you are willing.”

She seemed surprised about the sudden revelation that their time at Skyhold would be drawing to an abrupt end. “Today? We just returned!”

He laughed again. “I should avoid teasing you when you clearly have just risen. Forgive me, it was unkind. We will leave a week from tomorrow. It will be a small party—Cassandra and Cullen thought just you, me, Varric, and Hawke should be sufficient. A larger band would draw attention and possibly scare off our potential allies.”

She let out a sigh of relief, her body relaxing. She had just gotten used to the feeling of bathing regularly again and had not mentally prepared for another expedition. “Thank you for letting me know.”

He stepped out of her doorway again. “I will give you some space to prepare for the day. Though, if you would like to take me up on my offer for a sparring partner, I will be in the yard.”

She raised up what was remaining of her right arm. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He shook his head, smiling. “No, this was all part of my plan to beat you at swordplay. Gifting you my anchor. Taking it away. Removing your arm along with it. Everything I have done was in preparation for this moment.” His voice was solemn and his face suddenly pensive.

She punched him in the shoulder. Harder than was strictly necessary.

\--

Following some more pointed staring at her breakfast before finally deciding to actually consume it, the Inquisitor stretched. Her body had ached, as though she had walked for miles. She supposed she had, in a sense. She felt as though she was beginning to live two lives—one during the waking hours and one while she slept. She hoped that Solas was right and that her exhaustion wouldn’t be perpetual. It would be dangerous to be this tired once they left the safety of Skyhold.

From her wardrobe she pulled out a dark tunic and leggings, something she could move in but would have a chance of hiding perspiration in case she did decide to fence. Wrapping a green cloak with the sword and eye of the Inquisition around her shoulders to steel her against the cold, she stepped into the Great Hall.

The morning was filled with the lilting accents of Orlesian nobles, the murmurs of the Chantry Sisters, and the grumblings of more than a few dwarves. The Inquisition was a home to them and many more besides. She wondered at it, for a moment, recalling that until adulthood she had only interacted with other Dalish elves.

In what seemed another world, she had volunteered as Clan Lavellan’s ambassador to Wycome, a stronghold in the Free Marches. She had never been to a human city before, but relished the opportunity to meet people who were different from her. _I was naïve, but full of hope then._ She had been shocked to see the alienages in the supposedly “free” cities, where her people were relegated to the slums. In those times, she had seen a mixture of desperation and determination in the city elves. Elven parents in the city would pray to Mythal that their children would be born with magical talents, because even the Circle would be better than the perpetual poverty that would be their lot in life.

She had encouraged her Keeper to send healers to the Wycome and Kirkwall, to train the people there to treat their wounded. Human surgeons and mages would not often see elves. In the rare case that the surgeons could be convinced, the cost of their services could lead a family towards starvation. Clan Lavellan had initially resisted, but eventually she had won Keeper Deshanna to her side. The rest of the clan fell swiftly in line. She was proud of this accomplishment, convincing her people to overcome their fears to help their city-bound kin. She had not known that her first successes would be some of her smallest.

Deshanna had praised her for her leadership and continued to use her skills to broker agreements with nearby human and dwarven settlements. When the Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes was announced, she was the easy choice to send to the meeting to gather both information and allies. None had realized the gravity of that decision.

_What could have happened had I_ not _gone to the Conclave? Surely someone else would have stopped Corypheus. There is nothing special about me in particular. I was simply in the wrong—or right—place._ She wondered what would have happened to this shadow Inquisitor. Would they have disbanded the Circle of Magi? Would they have saved the Wardens? The Empress? Would they have stopped to save the people of Thedas who were left with so little?

_Would they have been able to stop Solas from destroying us all?_

She sighed. _Sometimes the burden feels as though it will crush me._

“Are you alright, Inquisitor?” Hawke had entered the hall while she was musing and he approached her now, looking concerned.

She tried to relax. “I am, despite appearances. I was just pondering the fate of the world and the strange circumstances that brought me to my place in it.”

He smiled. “Ah, so nothing particularly dramatic then.” He reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder. “You and I have that in common. Unlikely heroes.”

“Do you ever question why?”

“You mean why we are who we are? Why we did what we did?” He considered, briefly. “My imagining is that we probably pissed off the wrong celestial being.”

She found herself smiling. “That must be it, then.”

“In truth, I think it’s just bad luck. Or perhaps we really _are_ special and everyone else who was put in the same type of situation just ended up dying, leaving only us behind. People around me do tend to do that.”

She sighed. “This isn’t lightening the mood.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. It is hard, being a symbol of something. Having people look to you. It takes you away from yourself. You start questioning everything you do, just in case you end up being a terrible example for some small child. It’s exhausting.” He shrugged. “I don’t think either of us would have been content with a simple life, though. And the perks aren’t terrible either. You seem to be doing quite well.”

She looked at him then, noticing that despite his joking nature, he seemed to wear just a touch of sorrow. _He tries to hide his injuries with laughter_.

“What do you mean by that?”

“The mage. You’ve seemed happier since he returned. After you defeated Corypheus, I expected you to be exuberant. That clearly wasn’t the case. It seemed to me that the battle had cost you more than you wished to admit. You flitted around the parties, departing exactly as early as custom allowed. I was not the only one to notice, but I am probably the only one who is going to be willing to say as much.”

She nodded. _He has the truth of it_. The victory had been, in fact, bittersweet. She had finally saved the world, but in doing so she had lost the little bit of it she had carved out for herself. The reminder stung.

He met her eyes again, holding his gaze steady. “Can I ask you something?”

She nodded, urging him to continue.

“Does it ever feel the same again?”

She frowned. “Truthfully?” She took a deep breath. “I will tell you when I find out.”

He nodded. “I feared as much. Thank you.”

“Hawke?”

He turned back to face her.

“Whatever happens, it will still be preferable to the alternative.”

His half-smile was sad as he moved away, towards the courtyard. “I know.”

\--  


When she arrived in the practice yard, the crisp autumn air was full of the smell of sweat and freshly sawn lumber. Men and women, soldiers of the Inquisition, were partnered up for the morning drills. She saw soldiers who had served with her since the days of Haven standing adjacent to recruits that had joined them at Skyhold after Corypheus’s fall. More poured in daily, to the point where she wasn’t sure how Skyhold managed to contain them all.

Watching them and occasionally calling out suggestions to improve form, Commander Cullen stood tall amongst the soldiers he had been training. It was easy to see that with each well-timed blow, a new wave of pride would wash over him. The men and women may have served her Inquisition, but they were Cullen’s people.

Some of the soldiers were beginning to notice her approach, standing at attention. Eventually Cullen noticed the shift, as the clash of metal died out. The Commander turned to face her, smiling as he pressed his arm to his chest in a salute.

“At ease, soldiers. You may resume.” She still found it strange that an entire army would freeze at her mere presence.

“Inquisitor. I believe the men should serve you well in your coming ventures. Tevinter, especially, will not take kindly to you liberating their... What they consider to be… Their slaves.”

She returned his easy smile with one of her own. “I am sure the men will serve well, though they will need to stay at Skyhold a bit longer. We do not plan to wage a war unless it cannot be avoided. Our men are worth too much to me alive.”

He nodded. “I appreciate, and respect, the sentiment. Though I do think that time in the field could prove useful for the newer recruits. I have heard of unrest growing along the coasts. Bandits, most likely. I could send a contingent of veterans along with some of our newer people to bring the Inquisition’s peace to the area.”

She pressed her arm to his shoulder, nodding. “See it done, then, Commander. I trust the forces to you.”

“Thank you. I was afraid that your trust in me would not last. Not after...”

She raised her hand to stop him from finishing. “You have avoided the consumption of lyrium completely for over a year, am I right?”

He nodded. “It has become easier, with time.”

“Then you need not worry. I have always trusted you, with both the armies and care for yourself. You are taking care of yourself, are you not?”

She was shocked to see him blushing slightly at the question. She had not intended it as prying. “I have been... doing something of the sort.”

Curiosity piqued her interest. “Is there something more you wish to tell me about this development?”

“Since you asked,” he replied, casting a glance over his shoulder. “I _have_ wanted to tell someone, but did not think that you would be interested, of all people.”

She urged him to continue with a nonchalant wave of her hand.

“It’s... I’ve started seeing someone. Not someone who I would have expected, but someone who has made me happier than I could have imagined.”

“Is it someone that I would know?” She was trying to mentally catalogue who he could possibly be referring to.

“I have no time to meet anyone who you wouldn’t know, Inquisitor. I am to my neck in paperwork and the army needs constant attention to remain battle-ready.”

“It sounds like you want to tell me, but you keep shifting the subject. Who have you been seeing, Cullen?”

His cheeks colored again. “I’m not sure she’s told anyone yet.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re acting like an adolescent _and_ you still managed to avoid my question.”

He sighed, deeply. “Fine! It’s... a certain ambassador to the Inquisition.”

Her face lit up immediately. “You can’t mean Josephine, can you?”

He nodded, hushing her. “Like I said, I found it surprising at first too. But she always knows the right things to say even when I find myself fumbling around for words. Besides she’s...”

“As sweet as anyone has a right to be? I know. Though I know your heart is nearly as tender. I’ve seen you with your soldiers. You love them like family. Some of them never had any to begin with, so you bring them into yours.” She smiled, nodding. “I understand your attraction and I very much approve. I think you could be very happy together.”

She did not think his face could become a darker shade of crimson, but somehow Cullen managed. “Thank you, Inquisitor. It means... Thank you.” He cocked his head as though he just remembered something. “Speaking of people who may or may not be in some sort of romantic affiliation, I believe I saw Solas stretched out under a tree with a ponderously large book of some sort. He looked... quite odd, if I’m being completely honest.”

A wry smile caught her lips. “You mean his sudden change in appearance?”

“How could he possibly have gone from completely bald to sporting a full head of hair in less than a day? Perhaps I should ask him… My father was afflicted with baldness…” He shook his head. “Strange.”

She shrugged. “I think he’s trying something new. And he’s a mage. The laws that confine the rest of us do not seem to apply to him. Thank you for letting me know where he is. I think he wants to fence with me, which should be an uncomfortable sight to see. A one-armed warrior and a man who would seemingly rather study than swing a blade? I have absolutely no idea what to expect.”

Cullen laughed, tousling his golden hair. “I would practice away from the men. Just in case he beats you.”

She gave him a look of mild annoyance. “So you would bet on him, then?”

“Absolutely not.” He laughed again, looking at the soldiers. “But just on the off chance...”

She found herself rolling her eyes again suppressing a small smile, as she crossed the practice fields to find Solas and possibly prepare herself for what would be the most ridiculous fight in history. Or something else entirely. It was always hard to tell.

\--

She gathered her cloak closer to her body to keep away the chill. The winter would come quickly to them at Skyhold, making the mountain passes nearly impossible to navigate. _Though, I have done it before, alone and injured. Many had called that a miracle in itself_.

She found him shortly, laying underneath the branches of a great willow tree, the previously mentioned book open before him. It would have been hard for him to find a more picturesque spot on the grounds. A small lake stretched before him, the still waters reflecting the surrounding snow-capped peaks and creating what seemed a portal to another world.

She brushed aside the hanging branches as she approached him. She was a little surprised to see him lying amongst the dirt and weeds, seemingly unconcerned by the state of his clothing. _After seeing the ease with which he changes them, I suppose I should hardly be worried._

“Solas,” she said softly, to pry his attention from his book. He turned to her, smiling as though he had just surfaced some great depths and was taking in his first breaths of air. “Cullen told me that I could find you here. He was a little shocked by your appearance. He thought you had put a dead animal on your head.”

He grimaced. “If you do not favor this form, I can change back in an instant.”

She shook her head, waving her hands. “No! I was just joking. It is just a little disconcerting for someone who had not seen you like this before. Especially since it seems impossible to the rest of us that you can just change your shape, effortlessly.”

He placed his head on his hand, looking sideways up at her. “I care only what you think, vhenan. What would you prefer?”

“Your happiness. Whatever that means for you.”

He smiled, extending his hand and brushing away the fallen twigs next to him. “Then join me.”

She obliged, gathering her cloak around her to try and keep out the dust, sitting several inches away from him. She glanced at his reading material—the flowing text as beautiful as any illustration. She could not make out a single word. It seemed to be in ancient elvish, the written form of which was unfortunately nearly indecipherable to the Dalish. “I did not expect you to bring one of your precious books outside of the castle.”

He looked at her strangely, running his hand over the pages. “Oh, is it outside of Skyhold, then? I did not realize.” The book shimmered and vanished before her eyes.

She must have looked ridiculous with her jaw hanging there. She found herself constantly amazed by his casual use of magic. During battle, she seemed to accept anything he happened to conjure. It did not amaze her. For some reason, his use of it to enhance his everyday life was far more glorious and appealing. _Everything he does is beautiful_. She felt a familiar, strange fluttering in her stomach, looking at him again.

“How...?”

“I did not think you would be so impressed by a simple projection. You have seen far more fantastic displays in our time together.” He saw that he had her rapt attention and continued. “Well, since you asked, the book is indeed in my study. Its pages are delicate—I prefer to keep it where the dust and damp would not damage them. I can use the Fade to create a representation of objects that are not physically present. It would not be as easy for anything I would want to actually interact with, but it works well for anything I would simply view.”

She moved closer to him, their thighs nearly touching. She felt a wave of warmth spreading through her body in all of the places he was near. Trying to depress the feeling, she instead decided to open another line of inquiry.

“Solas, it may sound foolish, but I would like to know how you are able to use magic.”

His brow furrowed and he idly tapped his chin, deep in thought.

“I’m sorry, I should not have asked such a silly question.”

Their eyes locked. She was certain he was going to kiss her, but he moved to kiss her cheek instead. _So much for trying not to feel as though my entire body is going to burst into flame._ “No, vhenan, you misunderstand my hesitation. I simply do not know how to explain it. It is like trying to tell a fish how to breathe.” The look he caught on her face stopped him. “No, but of course I did not mean to compare you to a fish! I am sorry... This is not simple. I was able to manipulate the Fade before I gained a corporeal form. I have known no other way. But still, as you asked, I will try. I just need a moment to think.”

She became suddenly very curious about a beetle, walking amongst the fallen leaves, trying to avoid looking at him more than strictly necessary. Her breath was hard to keep under control and she was afraid he could hear her heart pulsing. _I have not been this close to him in this world since... Before everything changed._ She was frightened that a false move could destroy the fantasy that he was, in fact, with her again. That if she moved too quickly, he would vanish, and she would spend the rest of her days searching.

He took her hand, holding her palm towards the sky. His hands were soft, but callouses had formed on his fingers where he gripped his staff. Or perhaps his paintbrushes brushes. She tried to stop thinking about his hands and instead focused on her own. It was a mediocre effort.

“Forgive me if I misstep here. I will do my best to try and help you see. Though we may find it easier in the Fade. I have never been asked how to do magic by someone who never has before.”

She straightened. “Do you think I could learn, then?”

He paused, considering. “If you had asked me three years ago, I would have said no unequivocally. Mages are born with their powers, they are not created. However, you have shown me so many things I had never thought possible. I do not hold any reservations about you learning to do _anything_ that you desire. That is one of the many traits that drew me to you.”

She closed her hand around his, unable to brush away her smile with nonchalance. The gesture caused him to pause, looking at her. And before she knew it, his body was against hers, kissing her in earnest. Not with the fury he had displayed previously, but with a gentle consideration that somehow made her want him _more_. He ran his hands through her hair, pulling her face closer to his. Her lips were aflame and she had to remind herself to breathe, lest she come up for air gasping. And then, blissfully and terribly, it ended.

“Vhenan, I have never met a soul who I so loved as I do yours. With every day, my fondness for you reaches new depths. Again you show me impossibilities. I had not thought anything would have drawn me from my duties, and yet I find myself wanting to leave everything just for quiet moments in your company.”

“And have you left them, then? Your duties?”

“We are working for the good of the People, are we not?” She nodded at his question. “Then I have not abandoned them. I have merely shifted the course.”

“One day you will need to tell me what you were planning on doing.”

The suggestion seemed to pain him, but he replied. “You need not wait for the answer. I was investigating an artifact that had been located generally in Tevinter. It was just a shadow of a possibility, but my agents had heard whispers of something powerful hiding there. As we will soon find ourselves in the Imperium, I will continue my investigation, if only to prevent another from accessing its power. The artifacts of the Elvhen are not to be trifled with, if Corypheus was any indication.”

She reclaimed her hand from his and placed it on his cheek, softly, forcing him to see her. “You should not trifle with them either.”

“I know that I have given you little reason to trust me in the past, but I did not deceive you when I promised that I would stay. I believe I can reconcile my feelings for you with my duty to the People. I hope to experience both, if you would permit me.”

She released the breath she had been holding in. “I have never been able to stop you from fulfilling your wishes.”

He shook his head at that, his hand moving to her back, supporting her. “You give yourself too little credit. I would not have stopped my quest had I not seen you again. I thought I would be able to heal you and walk away, content with knowing you would survive the encounter. _I was a fool, vhenan_. I fear I will be repeating this admission eternally. You have made everything more challenging, just as I had initially feared.” He paused, lips brushing against her forehead. “But I now welcome the thrill of it. I misunderstood your world and sought to destroy it to bring back one I thought superior. I shall not mistake my own ignorance for inferiority again. There is value in your world, as strange as it may be. How can I not think it beautiful, when it was the vehicle through which you came to me?”

She pressed her head against his chest. His heart pulsed under his shirt. It was almost as though it was meeting her own heart’s rapid pace. “You make it difficult to learn magic, Solas. Perhaps I should find a less appealing tutor? I could go see if Dorian is available...”

He rolled his eyes at the suggestion. “Dorian would not know the subtleties of magic if it bit him on the...” He stopped himself. “No, I can teach you. It will be challenging enough for _me_ to try, and I have studied the subject longer than any living man. If I let a child teach you, chances are you would burn Skyhold to the ground, if you were ever even able to create a spark. Let me see your hand again.”

“Are you just trying to hold me?”

He smiled at her. “Ah, she sees through my veil.” He kissed her again, this time on the nape of her neck. She could feel blood rushing into her cheeks. And other places, as well. She held out her hand, limply. _Better to get on with it, rather than continuing with this. We’re not exactly hidden here and I’m not sure if I could content myself with a lesson if he persists in kissing me like that._

“Thank you. Now, I will try to push a small amount of energy through you, so you can recognize the sensation. Are you ready?”

She nodded, fearing that words would betray her thoughts.

She felt a soft glow, first rising from his own skin, and then somehow _entering_ hers. It reminded her of nights spent by a campfire, telling tales with her friends, forgetting about the world ending for a moment. It reminded her of hot cider, the perfect amount to make one tipsy. It reminded her of him. The rippling of magic began to spread out from her fingers and throughout her body, softening her muscles and easing her exhaustion. She exhaled and it seemed like she was _breathing_ magic. The air itself became softer, as though it had solidified to embrace her.

She did not feel the sting of tears as they came unbidden to her eyes, but felt the warm rivulets they left on her cheeks.

“Did you feel anything?” He asked, softly.

The tears fell, leaving tiny drops in the dirt. “Is that what it feels like? How do you manage to do anything at all when you could feel like _that_ all of the time?”

When she turned back to face him, his eyes were nearly glowing with joy. And also something else. _Surprise?_ “You did feel something?”

“How did you do that? What was I feeling?”

“Magic is akin to a physical manifestation of emotion. Desire. Need.” His eyes still held that curious look, that she couldn’t seem to dissect. “I just leant you a small amount of mine, for a moment.”

She looked at him again, finally understanding his meaning. She leaned in, her forehead nearly on his neck. She found herself whispering into his ear, all thoughts of discretion banished. “I want you, too.”

She gasped as the feeling of warmth emanated from him again, flowing through her skin, as he embraced her. The intensity made her skin tingle with anticipation as she realized that he was not holding back anything this time. He pressed against her, easing her down among the leaves. His lips found hers and she felt her neck arching in response to the flames growing within her body. She kissed him back, earnestly. All thoughts drifted from her mind, as though burned away by the magic.

And then she felt something different. While his magic had been melted gold, there was suddenly another feeling accompanying it. It was fainter, but she could feel it pulsing, matching the rhythm of his. It brought to mind emerald grass, warmed in the sun, billowing and blowing in the wind.

Solas started, pushing her back slightly. His eyes had widened, as though they meant to swallow her. Even he, could not keep his mouth closed in surprise.

His voice struck her like lightning, breaking her reverie. “Vhenan, I do not think that the Veil has completely sundered the connection between this world and the Fade. I did not realize. You can learn. You just needed a willing teacher.”

“You _cannot_ make me feel like that and stop to talk about magic.” She pulled his face back to hers. “Kiss me.” Her voice had taken on an unusually demanding quality, its strength matching her hunger for him.

“Gladly,” he said, falling into her embrace.

\--

Echoes of Solas’s magic pulsed in her veins, mingling and merging with her own apparent conjuring as well as her physiological reaction to his presence. It had become hard to parse it all, but she felt a subtle difference. If she focused on the feelings, one of the three did not seem to quite belong to her. It was strange, yet not unpleasant.

Her face was laying on his chest, against the bare skin exposed near his neck. His breaths were steady and she tried to time her own to match. His arms were still wrapped around her from when they kissed. He had not let go, even in sleep.

She opened her eyes to see the sky had already darkened, but she had not noticed the setting sun or the chill in the air. Her body was thrumming still, alive with magic. She stretched languorously, reaching towards the sky with an outstretched palm. Solas stirred next to her. She kissed his eyes, lightly, willing them to open. _We must have fallen asleep some time ago_.

“Come closer, vhenan,” he said, his eyes still closed. “I do not wish for you to leave.”

“Nor do I,” she agreed. “But, there are people who care about us, who would wonder where we are.”

“It is primarily you who concerns them. Let them wonder a little while longer.”

She nodded, laying back down against him, tracing circles against his skin.

“Solas?”

“Yes?”

“What did you mean earlier when you said that I was connected to the Fade?”

He opened his eyes, finally. “In the days of Elvhenan, all of the elvhen could practice magic. There were varying degrees of skill, as with anything else, but it was a gift as common as sight. All magic emerges through a connection with the Fade. As the embodiment of dreams, hopes, and memories, the Fade is something of a reservoir for magic. And the mages use their connection to the Fade, as well as their own energy, to summon that power. When the Veil was created...” He paused, remembering that she knew the truth, and corrected himself. “When I created the Veil, that connection was severed. The number of people, human and elvhen, who could draw on the Fade gradually decreased. Now what was once common is a rare gift.”

She nodded. “Then what you did to me...”

“You see the significance. If I am correct, it could be possible for a mage, someone with a strong connection to the Fade, to teach others how to navigate it. In effect, magical abilities are likely not just a bred trait, but could also a learned one.”

She took his hand in her own, bringing it to her lips. “This could change everything.”

He nodded. “We should return to Skyhold. I need to think on this. As much as I would enjoy your insight and company, some solitary reflection may be required. I find you to be...”

“A touch distracting?”

He smiled. “Your beauty is such that in your presence, I can scarcely find anything else worthy of study.”

He helped her to her feet, kissing her forehead, before taking her hand and beginning the short walk to the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a truly lovely chapter to write. I am glad to finally share it!
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> Until next time. There will be some very fun ones coming up soon. ;)


	6. What We Have Lost

Preparations for the party’s immediate departure were well underway by the time the Inquisitor arose. She had spent much of the morning trying to help with the requisitions, only to be turned away. It appeared that her services were no longer needed. As the Inquisition had grown, she found herself spending less time fetching supplies from far-off reaches of Thedas and more time in stifling meetings, discussing the future of the world. _It’s been somehow less exhausting, but paradoxically_ _more_ _so_ _._

Her people had looked at her curiously when she approached. They stiffened to attention now, unlike the early days of the Inquisition, when they would just stand in awe. She was becoming a power to be feared.  _ It is not a comfortable feeling to be  _ _ considered  _ _ intimidating.  _

It happened so infrequently, but she actually found herself bored. Cassandra was looking over military briefings with Cullen,  Varric and Hawke were bribing the Master of Horses for the best mounts, and  Solas was nowhere to  found at all .  She had already tried.  She had rarely spent this much time alone since she gained the anchor and found the experience discomfiting. 

She climbed the winding staircase up to the library, where Dorian would typically sit studying or stand pacing for hours at a time , depending upon his mood . The mage did not disappoint her. The  Tevene magister wore an elaborate golden outfit that defied gravity, a sharp contrast to his  deep frown.  Whatever document he was poring over, it concerned him greatly. She stepped up behind him, tapping his shoulder.

He jumped at her touch, standing suddenly. He recovered quickly, leaning against the table, half of his body facing her.  _ He  _ _ ha _ _ s _ _ spent s _ _ o much time positioning his body in precisely the perfect angle that it comes naturally now. I wish I had that grace.  _

“Inquisitor! I did not hear your approach! Otherwise I would have greeted you a bit more ... fluidly.”

“I am sorry for frightening you, Dorian.”

He laughed, lightly. “Oh, I wasn’t frightened. I was meaning to go for a walk. Too much sitting can wreak havoc on the lower body.” He winked at her. “And we can’t have that.”

She wrapped him in a hug, trying to avoid his overly starched collar. “I am glad you returned to us. How was  Tevinter ?”

He frowned slightly. “I had to come and see... After you returned I had questions. I have yet to receive any answers, but I am still hopeful. As to my countrymen, there is some unrest. I have also heard concerning rumors that may be of interest to you.”

Her ears perked and bade him to continue . “When we wiped  Corypheus off of the map, we unfortunately did not burn away all of the  Tevinter rot. The  Venatori are still active, though their actions have been more muted of late. I believe they fear the newly freed Orlesian and Ferelden mages. They have shown little action in this region since we averted the apocalypse.”

She nodded. “I was beginning to wonder, actually. We have not received reports of them  nearby for quite some time. Though I sense that there is a ‘but’ coming.”

“The  Venatori agents in this region have gone quiet, but there are mutterings of some new plot they’ve hatched. I believe they have located some magical artifact and are intending to use it to do something idiotic, as they are prone to from time to time.”

“An artifact? They located it? I was told that  there is something powerful being unearthed, that  likely elven in origin.  Both sources could be referring to the same thing. In that case, it could be quite dangerous.”

“If the  Venatori have it, it certainly is. Elven, you say? Your sources must be better than mine. Where di d you get that information from?”

She blushed, slightly. “Um...”

He waved a hand, stopping her. “No need to say it out loud.  Of course he would know, wouldn’t he? I need to find out where he gets his spies from. And how much he pays them. Though it seems he didn’t know that it has indeed been found.”

She could understand now why he had looked concerned. “Do you think they know how to use it? Whatever this  _ thing  _ is?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. I believe we would know if they did.”

“Thank you for the information. We should make our journey in haste, then. I would like to personally investigate this matter.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “As would I. I am glad you are turning your gaze towards  Tevinter . I believe that an Inquisition  presence  could be beneficial there . You won’t make many friends, but it could be a good medicine for them to swallow.”

“I hope that you’re right. I presume that you will not be joining us in seeking out Hawke’s former allies?”

He shook his head. “As much as I enjoy traipsing around the countryside with you , I will need to return  home . There is much work for me to do there, ever more since I ascended to the Magisterium. You will all be welcome at my estate when you arrive. It would be as good a base of operations as any.”

She nodded, smiling. “I will take you up on that offer, though you may regret it. Hawke and  Varric together may drink you out of your fortune.”

He grimaced. “Bull nearly already has...”

Her smile grew and the mention of her former companion. “Give Iron Bull my regards, Dorian.”

“You will be able to give them yourself, soon enough!” He started, suddenly, remembering something. “Oh!” He pulled out a light pink crystal out of his pocket. “I meant to give you this. It’s enchanted and will allow us to communicate while we’re apart. I can keep you abreast of anything new I discover. Only you will be able to hear it, though, so you will need to relay the information to the others.”

She took the crystal, holding it in her hand gingerly. “How do I use it?”

“You just think about how much you miss me and then speak into it.”

She looked at him, skeptically. 

“What? It really is that simple.”

“If you say so... There’s also something I wanted to tell you.”

“Oh? Is this where you confess your undying love for me? I knew it was bound to happen one day.”

“Not quite. I think...  Solas and I may have discovered something.”

He threw her a wicked smile. “Oh, I did not realize it would be one of  _ those  _ conversations... Maybe we should go somewhere with fewer listening ears. Then you can tell me all of the juicy details of what you and that cranky...”

“Dorian!”

He laughed, shrugging. “I believe you asked for that.”

She rolled her eyes. “We learned something about  _ magic _ .  That is why  I thought  it  would interest you. He did something to me—transferred some of his magic to me. Just to try and see if I could sense it.”

“And could you? I didn’t think you had any magical inclinations.”

She shook her head. “No, that’s just it. I could feel it, it felt like there was lightning running through my entire body. And then... I think I manifested something in response. Magic of my own.”

Dorian’s brow furrowed deeply and he ran a hand through his hair, considering. “I have never heard of such a thing. That is...  _ very  _ interesting. People are often affected by magic—when it is used on them,  un willingly , like during a battle . There is obviously a physical manifestation, otherwise it would not be able to change its surroundings. That you were able to feel it maybe shouldn’t be a revelation in and of itself. The response it elicited, however...” He paused. “Did you know he was going to do that to you, or was it an accident?”

She shook her head. “It was planned. I  just  asked him how he did magic and he  tried to help me feel it for myself.”

“Ah, maybe that explains it. There are few mages and even fewer non-mages who would submit to magical intervention. Perhaps your willingness to discover it allowed him to help lead you. That is very strange. I am not sure if it is necessarily a bad thing, but it may have ramifications.  Y po u were right. I  _ do _ find this fascinating. 

“I believe we should make a deal. I will tell you of any strange  Venatori whispers and you keep conducting your research. I’m sure  your mage will oblige. Let me know what you discover and I will do the same.”

“Dareth shiral, Dorian.”

He  grinned, flashing his teeth . “I love it when you speak Elvish to me. Be careful ,  sweetling .”

“I’m traveling with one of the most dangerous companies in  Thedas . I will be as safe as can be.”

“That was not my  only  meaning. Do not allow him to hurt you again. I will be forced to commit atrocities on your behalf. And I was just starting to like him.”

She hugged him again, lingering for a moment. “I will do my best to avoid that scenario. Goodbye, Dorian. I will miss you.”

“And I you.” He kissed her brow, like a long-lost sibling, before returning to his work. She descended the steps, crossed the Great Hall, and saw that Hawke and  Varric had already packed their horses as well as mounts for both her and  Solas . They were dressed in traveling leathers, no additional adornments marking them as Inquisition agents.

A hand took hers and she looked to see Solas standing next to her, seemingly appearing from nowhere.  He looked as he always had, the appearance he had used for the previous few days replaced with the one he first appeared to her as.  “Shall we?” He motioned towards their waiting companions. She nodded gripping his hand. She let it go only when she approached her mount, swinging up into the saddle. 

She noticed a crowd had gathered at their small party’s departure. 

She raised her blade in the air. “For  Thedas !” She called out to the Inquisition in an unusual display of drama.  The people—her people cheered.

The party of four crossed the bridge separating  Skyhold from the rest of the world. Together, they strode into the wilds. 

\--

Their first day riding had proven uneventful, if damp and dreary. Even Hawke had eventually grown sullen, his jokes quieted as they became sodden and tired. She was caked in mud and remembered her recent baths fondly.  _ Unfortunately, we will not be seeing any of that again for a while.  _ Their route would take them  n orth , skirting Lake  Calenhad , up to  Jader , where they could hire a ship bound for the Free Marches. She tried not to think of the amount of time they would need spend on the road, not when her boots were already waterlogged.

They set up camp more quickly than she thought possible. It did help having two mages in their fold—Hawke and Solas worked surprisingly well together, given their differe nt approaches to nearly everything . To everyone’s surprise, Hawke hardly spoke.  _ He is as tightly wound as a bowstring, and liable to snap at any moment. I wonder if he feels the way I did, upon learning that I would see Solas again, though not under the circumstances I had wanted. As a challenge—possibly an enemy.  _ The thought made her stomach churn.  _ I was so angry, then. I felt adrift, like a ship tossed about on the sea. I should know how he feels. Perhaps seeing a friendly face will do him well. I hope this Merrill will be able to lift his spirits again.  _ She did not want to think about what seeing Fenris might do to the Champion.

Solas busied himself with setting their wards while Ha w ke began to start a fire, trying to use a barrier to keep out the rain. Any kindling they found was soaked through, and he was having to try and dry the branches with magic. She approached the man huddled by his pile of twigs. 

“Is there anything with which I could be of help?” She approached Hawke slowly, as though moving towards a feral animal.

He shrugged. “Can you light a fire with magic?”

She shook her head. “Unfortunately, I am not blessed with that particular skill.”

“Then no. I don’t need any help.”

She looked at him, curiously. He seemed changed from the man she had spoken with at  Skyhold . “Hawke...”

He turned to look at her, finally. “ Varric already gave me a lecture. I don’t need one from you as well.”

“I didn’t mean to...” She stammered, trying to find the right words. “I know that you meant to protect him. You should not hurt yourself so much about it.”

“Some things —some people—are better off  left  alone, Inquisitor.”

She frowned. “You don’t really think that.” 

He sighed. “No. I...” He paused, looking at the branches. “I did not wish to leave. Not really. But I was going to be hunted. An apostate mage who may have had something to do with the destruction of an entire city? And  Fenris ... is very visible. You will see what I mean if we  manage to meet him. He would have been a target. And the Templars could have used him to try and capture me. I would not permit that to happen.”

She placed her hand on his shoulder, gently, hoping that she could make him see. “I know. But you are both free men now. There are no more Circles, no more apostates. You have nothing to fear.”

She felt his body droop under her hand. He sighed, deeply. “Oh, if only that were true. I am afraid he will not see me, if we do find him. When we find him. I am terrified that what we had will  be well and truly lost to me. For that, I am the only one to blame.”

She looked into his eyes, forlorn and searching. “If he loves you, he will forgive you in time. People can forgive their lovers for worse offenses than trying to protect them. I should know.”

A small smile emerged on his lips. “You are something of an expert on that, in recent days.”

“Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, yes. Quite the expert.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor.”

“No, thank you.” She nodded to his endeavor with the fire. It had just started smoking under his jacket. He stood quickly, patting out the small flames on his cloak and strengthening the barrier to prevent the fire from being extinguished. He smiled back at her as the flames slowly grew. 

They would apparently have a hot meal tonight. Which was good, because she was starving.

\--

She had finally gotten herself to a suitable state of dryness that she felt comfortable sliding into her sleeping bag for the evening. She had shed all of her outer layers, soaked and covered in mud as they were.  The  cloth was surprisingly warm against her skin. The rain was torrential outside of her tent, the inexorable pounding making it hard to hear, but inside her shelter was entirely dry. 

Slumber had nearly taken her when she heard a rustling at the front of her tent, and some indistinct cursing. She sat up with a start, reaching for her blade. 

Her tent opened to reveal an incredibly soaked and  irritable Solas. Water r an down his bare head and his boots sloshed against the floor of her tent.

“What happened to you?” She placed her sword back down on the ground, next to her sleeping roll.

“Damnable requisitioner must have given me a faulty tent. It was fine when the rain was gentle, but in the past hour there was enough water to drown .. . Me, apparently. ”

She looked at him skeptically. “Are you telling me that your tent had a leak and you—an elven mage demi-god—could not set a barrier to keep the water away?”

He shook his head. “I was going to sleep! It would not have kept!”

She glanced at him sideways. “Should I be concerned about the wards you set around our camp, then? Are  _ they  _ so fragile that a little unconsciousness would cause them to fail as well?”

He smiled, shaking his head. “Ah,  vhenan . It seems you saw through my ruse.  You are learning, then.  I should have known better than to try and spin falsehoods around you.”

She laughed, sitting up. “If you wanted to sleep with me, you could have just asked.”

He flicked his wrists and suddenly he was dry again.  _ Figures. _ “That was a result I could have hardly dared hope for.”

“Come here. It’s warmer the farther you are from the opening of the tent .” She pushed her sword out of his way as he sat beside her. 

“ Vhenan ,” he said, surprised. “ you aren’t wearing any clothing!”

She laughed, giving him a wry smile. “I am, just not much. They wouldn’t have been comfortable to sleep in. Besides, I’m sure that it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Not of you, no. Everything is different with you.”

“Ah!” She raised her hand in a sign of victory. “So there were other women, then?”

“None that matter.”

“And you are implying that I matter?”

“More than anything,” he said, taking her face in his hands and brushing back a stray hair. 

“I’ve often wondered what it would be like to fall asleep with you holding me in your embrace ,” she said, dreamily. “w aking up next to you in the morning. Smelling your bad breath.”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. “It sounds worth it, breath and all. Will you permit me to indulge in your fantasy?”

_ His words are always so forward, but his actions demonstrate remarkable restraint.  _

“Permit it? I demand it,” she replied, pulling him closer.

“Ma  nuvenin .  Ar lath ‘ma,  vhenan .” He lay down next to her, his body wrapping around hers, holding her tightly. She turned to brush a kiss against his lips and he returned it, gently as a breeze.

“On  nydha , ‘ ma’sal’shiral .”

The rise of his chest lulled her into a blissful sleep. 

\--

She was nearly blinded as her eyes opened upon a shining white city, situated in the center of a vast lake. She pulled her hand up to her forehead to try to shield her face from the glare. White spires stretched towards an impossibly clear sky. With a start, she noted that some of the parapets had no attachment to anything on the ground. Entire structures floated in the air above her, as though gravity itself was a force to be controlled.

Birds larger than her  entire body  flew overhead, their crimson and golden plumage contrasting sharply with the  blue  sky above. They traveled in a tight formation towards the valley below, to the city which hurt to look at with the sun beating down. 

Her eyes adjusted, slowly, to the environment. She found herself drawn towards the mysterious city that looked like nothing from her world. The land on which it was built rose out of the body of water, with streams seemingly flowing  _ upward _ into the city instead of downward.  Even f rom this distance, it looked to be much larger than Val Royeaux. 

“Where have I found myself?” She wondered, aloud.

To her astonishment, a familiar voice, filled with an unusual reverence, answered her. 

“Hello vhenan,” Solas replied, quietly. “An’daran atish’an. Welcome home.”

“This is…”

He nodded. “ Arlathan . I wanted to show you what we have lost.”  Solas’s face was a mask—she could not read his expression. Instead, she took his hand, gently. He guided her towards the floating city.

The nearer they were to the shimmering city, the more details she began to notice. The bridges were study under their feet, but looked to be made of spun glass. She could see the water bubbling underneath their feet as they crossed together, into  Arlathan .

_ The home of my people.  _ _ Solas’s _ _ home.  _

She looked at him, trying to read the faraway look in his eyes, as he stared past her. “You lived here.” It was not a question.

“Yes. I had a home here. I did not always live in the city, but  I was always welcome here me if I wished to stay.”

“Ir abelas, ‘ma vhenan. Would that I could have seen it. To have walked with you while the city teemed with life. Now, it seems too beautiful to live in.”

He smiled. “It was always too beautiful to live in,  vhenan . Too perfect to maintain.”

“ Solas ?”

“Yes?”

“Is everything alright?”

He sighed. “Yes. This is more painful that I had thought it would be. Seeing it, even only through my memories in the Fade, is nearly unbearable. I will show you more of it , one day. I promise.”

“I love you.”

He smiled. “And I return your love one thousandfold.”

Arlathan , in all of its glittering wonder, disappeared before her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter, but the next couple are longer. And, I *may* need to change the rating for the fic once I publish Chapter 7... So there's that. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> I also wanted to say that I would definitely welcome constructive feedback if anything in particular stands out! This is my first fic and I would love to hear what I can improve on as it continues. One thing I know that is a bit of trouble is describing character actions, so let me know if you have suggestions on that! 
> 
> Ma serannas. 
> 
> Elvish translations:  
> Dareth shiral: safe journey  
> Ma nuvenin: As you wish/say  
> Ar lath 'ma vhenan: I love you, my heart  
> On nydha: Goodnight  
> Ma’sal’shiral: my soul's journey; roughly translates to love of my life  
> An’daran atish’an: Enter this place in peace; roughly translates that you will be safe here  
> Ir abelas, ma vhen'an: I am filled with sorrow for your loss
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful compendium of elvish by fenxshiral! Check it out if you're interested in the linguistics (much of it painstakingly developed) of the DA elvish!


	7. The City of Chains (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW (and I've had to change my rating for the story to explicit). Oops.  
> I will post an SFW edit of the chapter soon, so look for that if you would like to avoid anything explicit. :)

They had spent nearly three weeks on the road, before catching a ship to take them across the Waking Sea. The weather had warmed, becoming almost pleasant as they left the mountains behind and neared the northern coast of Ferelden. Her companions’ moods had improved steadily with the change in climate. 

And despite the weariness of travel, she had felt like she was floating. 

Since their first night on the road, where Solas had come to her, drenched and complaining, they had shared her tent together. Neither Varric nor Hawke had mentioned it explicitly, but she caught them both sneaking glances as she stole off with Solas after they finished eating. 

Eventually the elven mage had stopped even setting up his tent, as he was only doing it for appearances. Their friends were not clearly not fooled by the charade and the gesture seemed rather pointless. 

_He is still here_. _And I am beginning to think he has no intention of leaving._

Closer than they had been before Corypheus pulled them apart, she was settling into a routine with their relationship. He took clear pleasure for any miniscule movement that brought him near her. He would surprise her with gifts and confessions. Sometimes it was just a vista that he said he ‘needed to experience with her’. She relished the change in his personality, feeling as though she was beginning to know the version of him that he could be, bereft of responsibility. He was acting as Solas, before he became Fen’Harel. Before he had assigned himself as the protector of the downtrodden of the world. 

Their travels had been blissful, but even the most wonderful journeys must inevitably reach a conclusion. 

They had finally arrived in Kirkwall. 

She had learned one thing. Kirkwall had one of the most ominous entrances of any place she had ever encountered. _Step off the ship and you’re met with monoliths depicting—slaves? Who would decorate their city with a monument to such evil?_

Varric placed his hand on her shoulder. “Ah, I see Kirkwall is as unchanging as ever. Welcome to the Gallows, Inquisitor.” 

“This is a revolting display,” said Solas, frowning deeply. 

Hawke laughed. “I thought the same, my first time in Kirkwall. Fresh off the boat from Ferelden, one step away from the darkspawn, sick from the turning of the ocean, only to be met with barred gates and statues of screaming slaves. Not exactly a warm welcome. Come to think of it—I _still_ agree with you. This place is dismal.” 

She stared. “Kirkwall closed their doors to the refugees? You were fleeing from the Blight, if I’m not mistaken?” 

He nodded, shrugging. “You are not. They didn’t want any blighted beggars in their noble city. I only bought my entry by selling myself into a year of servitude.” 

She looked at him. “That’s… awful. I did not know.” 

“It turned out alright, there in the end. That being said, if I were to choose, I would pick your method of governing than that of Kirkwall’s. Much more empathetic towards human suffering. And willing to try and alleviate it.” 

“Thank you for the vote of confidence. I find it intriguing that you decided to champion a city that treated you so poorly.” 

He shrugged. “Mistakes made does not mean something isn’t worth saving.” 

_I agree with that sentiment wholeheartedly._

Varric gestured them forward. “Come on, let’s quit admiring the scenery. This place still gives me the creeps.” 

Hawke nodded. “If your reports are correct, we should find Merrill somewhere in the alienage. It should be simple enough to start with her house.” 

Varric nodded. “Daisy doesn’t like change she can avoid. If she’s moved elsewhere since we were last in town, I would be surprised.” 

\-- 

The elven alienage was less grim than the gates though which they entered the city. It was clear that the area that the elves called home in Kirkwall was the oldest part of the city—buildings were showing their wear and scaffolding sprang up around them as repairs were ongoing. A great tree, painted brightly in reds and greens was situated in the center of the main square. The city elves were chattering freely when the group of outsiders first arrived, but a hush followed the visitors as they passed the city elves. 

Hawke led them through the cobblestone streets, until they reached an alley leading to a small, non-obtrusive door with a griffon artistically carved into the surface. 

The Inquisitor rapped on the door. 

A slight woman, dressed in a Keeper’s green robes from head to toe, answered. Her hair was frizzled and she seemed to buzz with anxiety. 

“Hello, there? Is there something I can do for you?” The young woman glanced at them curiously. 

Varric stepped around the doorframe, regarding his old acquaintance. “Good to see you, Daisy. You seem... harried.” 

She jumped, nearly bowling her over with excitement. “Varric! Oh, it has been so long!” She embraced the dwarf, suddenly, before looking uncomfortable and pulling away. “Um... Oh, I am sorry! I had forgotten to ask. Do you like hugs? We have never been apart for so long and it never seemed appropriate given all that was going on and... Oh, is that Hawke?” 

Hawke bowed his head slightly, as though greeting royalty. “In the flesh.” 

“Hawke, it has been _even longer since I have seen you_! Would you permit me too... I would hug you too if you would find that acceptable!” 

He shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy, Merrill.” 

She nearly squealed with delight. “Oh, what a wonderful day this is becoming. And here I thought it would be wretched. I have so many people I need to...” She paused, glancing around, suddenly growing pale. “I am so sorry! I have already been a terrible host. I have not even asked the names of your companions, let alone offered you admittance! Come with me, there is no need to stand out on the street. Though, I am sure you will find my dwellings humble, it is cold outside and I would not have you wait on me any longer!” 

Varric smiled, glancing at Hawke as Merrill rushed off to grab them each refreshment. “Same old Daisy, it seems.” 

Hawke laughed at that. “I never expected her to change.” 

Merrill returned carrying a tray of mugs and a pitcher of water, the glass frosted over. “I am sorry, I only seem to have water. But, it’s cold at least!” She placed the tray down, hurriedly. “Please, help yourselves! It is a long walk from Hightown and I assume you would be staying with Hawke?” 

Varric nodded. “The Champion has kindly agreed to house us for the time being.” He gestured to the rest of his party. “Merrill, I would like to introduce you to Solas, our resident expert on all things old and elven and The Herald of Andraste, or if you rather, the leader of the Inquisition.” 

Merrill looked shocked. “The... Herald? So, you represent the Chantry? You’re... not what I expected!” 

She shook her head. “No, not exactly. We aim to be a peacekeeping force for all of Thedas. Aneth ara. It is good to finally meet you. I have heard much of your adventures.” 

Merrill looked more confused than ever. “Wait, you mean to tell me that you’re... _Dalish_ _?!_ And the Herald? AND THE INQUISITOR?” She shook her head. “This is all very much unexpected.” 

She laughed. “For you as well as me, Merrill.” 

The young woman turned then to Solas. “Are you Dalish as well then? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” 

He shook his head. “No, I am not of the clans.” 

“From the cities then? Your accent does not sound Ferelden or of the Marches. Nor Orlesian... And I knew a Tevene once, but that isn’t quite right either.” 

“I am from a small town, and not one you would recognize.” 

She looked puzzled. “Oh, that is very mysterious. I expect you may tell me in time what you mean by that, but I should not press it. Not a good way to make a first impression, by being overly nosy.” 

Merrill looked at them both, realizing something. “Wait, Inquisitor. You said you were Dalish?” 

She nodded. “I am. Clan Lavellan.” 

“Oh, Lavellan. I was not aware that they stopped giving the vallaslin. Is that a new trend among the Dalish? It has been a while since... Nevermind.” 

_Ah, she would notice my conspicuous lack of blood-writing._ “I did have the markings, once. They have been since removed. It is a long story.” 

“Oh! I am sorry! Here I go again, asking questions I ought not. That’s well enough, then! It does make it a bit easier to blend in without them on your face, I would imagine!” 

She noticed that Solas had spent the entire conversation staring at a floor length mirror in the corner of the house. _An_ _eluvian_ _. A non-functional one, by the look of it._

Their host noticed his gaze as well. “Oh, that thing in the corner is called an eluvian! In the days of the ancients, they were used to transport... something. Maybe messages? I am not sure. This one has never worked properly.” 

He stood, moving slowly towards the broken artifact. He stretched out his hand, feeling the wood of the frame before jerking his hand away. “This one has been corrupted! Why would you keep such a thing in the middle of a city?” 

She sighed, her frame drooping slightly. “It was corrupted, yes. What you sense is just a shadow of the Blight. I was able to cleanse it, but not before it had already taken one of my clan.” 

He looked at her, suspiciously. “You managed to cleanse an eluvian of the Blight, alone?” 

She shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Hawke. “Well, there was a bit of blood magic involved. Mine, of course! I would not use another’s for such a purpose! But... Hawke does not like for me to speak of it. It caused a great deal of trouble for me and it was hard enough for him to pull me out of it.” 

Hawke nodded. “It was not the most well-thought out plan, Merrill.” 

Solas agreed. “The use of blood magic, particularly on something that already has a taint is incredibly dangerous. I am honestly surprised you were able to survive it. I could have helped you, had I known that there was a Blighted eluvian in this part of the world.” 

“Helped me? You would not have tried to destroy it?” 

He looked taken aback. “Destroy one of the most elegant works of the ancient elves? Never. These can be repaired, if one has the proper tools.” 

Merrill pulled out a dagger from her pocket. “You mean one of these?” 

Solas turned to her, stunned. “Is that... where did you get an Arulin’Holm?” 

The young elf held the dagger in her hands, gingerly. “It was a treasure of my clan, held for centuries. Keeper Marethari said that it is as old as Arlathan itself.” 

He nodded. “It is likely older than that, still. It is settled then. I will help you to fix your relic.” 

Merrill brightened immediately. “Truly? I had not even considered asking! I have never seen a working eluvian before! Do you know of such things?” 

He nodded, glancing back at the Inquisitor. “I am quite familiar with them, in fact. We should get started immediately. I believe our party would like to be out of the city as soon as possible. Once this is done, we can be. Will you come with us?” 

She looked surprised. “I have... so much work to do here. The people need me.” 

Solas smiled. “Consider it a favor for fixing your mirror. And I can help you see to them before you leave. You were training others to heal, were you not?” 

She nodded. “I have taken a First. She’s just an apprentice, but she should be able to handle most of the aches and pains of Kirkwall.” She paused, considering. “This seems as fair a trade as any. Though, may I ask where we will be going?” 

“Tevinter, eventually. But you are not the only old friend we intend to meet,” Varric spoke. “There is another, far less pleasant elf we would like to find as well.” 

“Oh, Fenris! Hawke, I had expected him to be with you.” 

Hawke stiffened, visibly. 

“Best not speak on that, Daisy. Bit of a touchy subject, right now.” 

“I am so sorry! I will stop talking now! Well, at least about that.” She turned to Solas. “Would you like to begin? The work I mean? I really can’t believe that you would help me! Everyone I have asked before usually… Nevermind. Best not talk about it.” 

He nodded. “We _should_ start. It is likely to be a long day. Can I see the Arulin’Holm?” 

“Of course!” She handed him the dagger, nearly cutting herself in the process. “Also, a long day?! Truly? I have been working on this for years and you believe it will be fixed in a day?” 

The Inquisitor smiled proudly. “Solas is nothing if not efficient.” 

The two elves stood together, facing the mirror. Solas studied it, silently, while Merrill flitted around it trying to understand what he was looking at. 

“You know... The Arulin’Holm itself is not the key that will fix the eluvian on its own. You need to be able to channel a certain type of...” Solas began speaking softly. 

“Come along then, Inquisitor. I believe that should occupy them for a time. You should see Kirkwall, while we’re here.” 

She accompanied Hawke and Varric to the doorway, bidding the others farewell. They did not seem to hear. She shrugged as they closed the door softly behind them. 

\-- 

Her eyes squinted and her brows drew together. Her nose crinkled with the effort and even her ears began to twitch, ever so slightly. 

She sighed. 

“I don’t think it’s working, Solas.” 

He smiled, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before setting it back on the table that stretched between them. They sat in her bedchamber, where Solas was trying to teach her conjuring. “You are trying too hard, vhenan. Stop focusing and…” He pulled a bright red flower from the air and handed it to her. 

_Embrium_. 

“You are an _incessant_ flirt.” 

He shrugged. “And you are to blame for engendering such a reaction in me.” 

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep the smile from stretching across her face. 

“How did you do that?” 

He smiled, cocking his head slightly to the left. “If I am not mistaken, you are thinking of yourself as a hammer, trying to bash things into existence. If you continue with that practice, we will be sitting here until the heavens crash into the earth. Instead, think of yourself more as a conduit, a channel, and allow the magic to work for you.” 

She sat stiffly, still. 

His hand was placed gently on the small of her back. “Relax, vhenan. You are too tight. And _breathe_. You are all pent up—nothing can flow through you like this.” 

She looked at him. “I can hardly relax with you touching me like that.” 

He stepped away, shaking his head with what she presumed with slight embarrassment. “Ah, I apologize. But do try to soften your muscles.” 

She nodded, closing her eyes. She sat straight, inhaling deeply. She rested her palms on her legs, just enough to feel the pressure there. She continued breathing, trying to consciously soften her muscles from her neck down to her toes. As she sat, she felt her body begin to loosen, the tension brought about by her usual anxieties slowly melting away. The air began to feel cool on her skin as she noticed every sharp breeze. The force of gravity, drawing her body into the chair, began to feel perceptible. 

Her skin began to tingle, ever so slightly. 

She reached her hand out, moving from the resting position on her leg and into the air in front of her chest. Something nearly indiscernibly soft landed there. 

She opened her eyes to see a butterfly, more colorful than anything she had seen in the natural world. It flitted upwards, landing on her nose. She wiggled it, looking cross-eyed down at the tiny creature. 

In an instant, it was gone. 

She heard a soft clap from her side and turned to see Solas smiling. He bent down and kissed her nose, right where the magical butterfly had been a moment before. 

“Ara lath, we will make you into a Dreamer yet.” 

“Conjuring butterflies will make me a powerful mage, then? Wonder that others haven’t tried it.” 

He laughed. “It is a start. Do not be so hard on yourself. That you can conjure anything at all is a monumental achievement.” 

She looked at him pointedly, absently twirling a tendril of hair in her fingers. “When will I surpass you in skill?” 

He looked at her, narrowing his eyes, with a playful smile. “Give yourself a few thousand years of practice and perhaps you may possess a sliver of my prowess.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “I give it a week. Two, at most.” 

“Ha! If only it were that simple. We had to try for hours for that butterfly.” 

She found herself winking. “I am a quick learner.” 

“Hmm... I wonder why it is that I feel absolutely no fear.” 

She stood, approaching him slowly, a mischievous grin on her face. “Oh, you should.” 

“In that case, perhaps we should call it an evening. My pride does not permit me to continue our lessons if you seek to usurp me so quickly.” 

“An evening? But we’re finally seeing some results!” 

He shrugged. “What better time to move on to something else? On nydha, vhenan. I will see you in the morning.” 

“Solas! Where are you going?” 

“To my chambers. They’re just across the hall.” 

She looked at him skeptically. “You’ve spent the last fortnight in my bed, sleeping with me, and you’ve suddenly grown shy?” 

“If we’re being accurate, it wasn’t precisely a bed. I have never shared an actual room with you. Not one surrounded by... so many walls. I would never presume that you would be interested in such a thing.” 

She stepped closer to him, their faces nearly touching. “Oh, you wouldn’t be presuming.” 

“Is that true?” 

“I would keep you close to me.” 

“How close, vhenan?” He whispered, his voice heady. 

She pulled him close, kissing his neck. “Isalan hima sa i’na,” she whispered breathlessly into his ear. 

He kissed her fully, pressing his body against hers, running his thin fingers through her hair. 

“Vhenan, I did not know you knew the words for that.” 

She smiled, wickedly. “I have been studying.” 

“Keep doing so and I will have a much harder time keeping my hands from you.” 

“That was my intention.” 

“Vhenan...” 

“Kiss me again.” 

And he did, his fingers cradling her face as her body sank into his. She felt his lips, soft and smooth, against her cheek, her neck, her collarbone, before he began tugging at her tunic. 

“Allow me,” she said, pulling it over her head. Her breasts were bound as usual, to prevent discomfort while riding or fighting. He pulled at the clasp holding the wrappings in place and spun her around, undoing the cloth and removing it from her skin. She flushed as she caught him staring at her naked flesh. 

“In all my life, I have never seen one so beautiful.” 

She nearly tore his robe off, trying to remove it, before pulling him close. She felt the warmth of his skin against hers, his wolven skull necklace hard between between her exposed breasts. She kissed him again, her tongue on his lips. She bit him, gently, and his lips parted just enough for her tongue to enter. She felt a hot rush permeate her entire body, making her nearly shake with desire. 

She half-dragged him across the room to her bed, where she pulled him on top of her. He kissed her again, his tongue exploring the inside of her lips. One of his hands was underneath her, against her back, the other caressing her face. She pulled his hand out, and placed it on her side, near hear chest. 

His lips left hers and found their purchase against her exposed neck, before he slowly worked his way down to her breasts, kissing as he went. When he took them in his mouth, she found her back arching with pleasure, nipples hardening from his touch. His hand caressed her chest, drawing tiny circles, causing her to squirm from the sensation. 

He kept kissing her, working his way down from her chest to the soft skin on her stomach. And suddenly he had descended to her waistline, where her breeches were the only article of clothing she had remaining. 

He hesitated, his eyes fixed on hers. 

She nodded. 

And he stripped them off. 

He kissed her lower stomach, her thighs, her legs. Everywhere except where she wanted him to. She felt her body stiffening and writhing with anticipation, his kisses tickling her as he continued. 

And then his lips were exactly where she needed them. 

She quickly covered her mouth in her hand to contain her audible gasp as his pace quickened. She lost control, nearly kicking him. He grabbed her legs, holding them in place. And he continued, tongue inside of her. She was breathing heavily, trying to keep from twitching. 

He moved from her suddenly, with a grin that made her heart flutter. And then he was kissing her again. His mouth had a slightly sour taste, but not one she found unpleasant. She was just beginning to recover some semblance of dignity after he had seemingly overridden all of her control. 

And then she felt something _enter her_. 

“Ah...” 

He kissed her again, his fingers groping inside of her. She could not keep her head straight, turning to the side and closing her eyes, enjoying the feel of it. She found herself grinding against his knuckles, setting the speed. Slowly, she felt herself dripping. 

And then suddenly she felt it. The building tension, threatening to make her explode. It felt like her lower body was filling with water, ready to burst. The pressure had stalled her breathing completely. She felt her eyes rolling back into her head, giving herself up to the sensation. 

And like a thunderclap, her entire body shuddered, the pressure bubbling to the surface consuming her. 

The release. 

Her head rose suddenly, neck arched, before dropping down to the pillow. 

She lay there, catching her breath. 

He pulled his fingers out, wiping them on the pants he was somehow still wearing, before lying next to her. 

She flipped on top of him, fumbling with his laces, her fingers acting as though they were twice their usual size. Then she hesitated, looking at him. 

“Wait. Solas, I have a question for you.” 

He looked at her, curiously. “Hmm. Now?” 

She nodded. “It is relevant.” 

“Go on.” 

She blushed. Surprising, given what they had just done. 

“Do you have any children?” 

He sat up suddenly. “What a strange question to ask, vhenan. And at a particularly strange time.” 

She cleared her throat. “I mean... Are you capable of having children... Given that...” 

He nodded, understanding finally. “That I am ancient? No, I do not have children, but yes, I am capable of doing so.” 

“Well, then. That is unfortunate.” 

He paused, looking at her for a second, before a laugh escaped him. “You mean...” He tried to stop himself, speaking between his rich, deep laughter. “You mean to tell me that... Oh, vhenan. You are an _incredible_ tease. Is there not something you can take to avoid... consequences of actions such as this?” 

She nodded, uncomfortably. “There is. But I would have had to start taking it daily before we had left Skyhold to see any effect.” 

He laughed again. “My luck... Of course... You know there is a spell for that?” 

She perked. “Yes?” 

He shook his head, glancing at her sideways. “I do not remember how to use it.” 

“WHAT!?” 

He shrugged. “It has been _thousands_ of years. There are many things I know, it is hard to expect me to remember every single magical endeavor I have had a chance to use.” 

She frowned, crossing her arms across her chest. “You mean to tell me that there is a spell that would allow me to make love to you, without worrying about pregnancy, and that _you are familiar with the spell_ , but you cannot remember how to cast it?” 

He nodded. “That summarizes the situation well.” 

“Fenedhis lasa.” 

He laughed. “Would that you could, vhenan.” 

“If you know the spell, that means you’ve been with other women, then?” 

He nodded. “Of course.” 

“And would I know any of them?” 

“Ancient elves? Actually, yes, some of them. By reputation at least.” 

She cocked her head. “Oh? Do tell.” 

Solas shook his head. “It was a long time ago. And you are the only one I desire. The only one I have desired since the fall of Arlathan. The only one I shall desire until the end of my days.” 

“You cannot sweet talk your way out of this. Tell me, Solas, who else have you managed to seduce?” 

He laughed. “I rather think that I was the seduced, not the seducer. There was a competition amongst Andruil’s people. I lost to one of her hunters. She claimed the boon in his stead. And chose me.” 

Her mouth gaped. “You slept with _Andruil_?!” 

“Only once. I was with her mother hundreds of times.” 

“YOU SLEPT WITH _MYTHAL_?!” 

He laughed. “You asked.” 

“You can’t be...” 

He looked completely serious, if bemused. “I am.” 

“But they were both... married... Were they not?” 

He shrugged. “Monogamy gets dull when your vows are as eternal as your lifespan. Despite what your Keeper may have told you, the Evanuris were not particularly chaste or faithful. It was an honor that they bestowed their affections on me, even for a short while. I was obliged to accept, of course.” 

“I can’t believe you.” 

“Did you think me a virgin? _Me?_ ” 

“No, but...” 

“Are _you_?” 

“No, but...” 

“Do you think it affects my feelings for you in any way?” 

“I don’t know, but...” 

“Then I will tell you. You rank unmistakably above them in my affections. What I feel when I am with you—I have never experienced it before. What happened previously does not matter. Not in the slightest. You are the spirit for which my heart has always been yearning.” 

She wrapped herself in his discarded robe, before moving to the balcony. 

“I am sorry. That was petty of me.” 

“Under the circumstances, I will let that pass. It must be unusual for you to hear about your gods in such a manner. To be close to one, even.” 

She laughed, turning to face him. “True. What now, Fen’Harel? My love?” 

He smiled at her, grabbed her legs, and lifted her into his arms. Her feet dangled in the air as he supported her back and legs. “That spell I mentioned, I will look into it. For the moment, there are other ways for me to please you, in the meantime. Which you have already observed.” 

“Fen’Harel ver em,” she whispered in his ear. 

“And where would you have me take you?” 

“Vera em su tarasyl,” she answered. 

“Ma nuvenin, vhenan,” he said, carrying her back to bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because apparently even ancient elven demi-gods don't have infallible memories.
> 
> Ma serannas. <3
> 
> Much of the elvish comes from fenxshiral's wonderful work! Check it out here: 
> 
> Elvish:  
> Anetha ara: Dalish greeting  
> Arulin'Holm: ancient elven woodcarving tool  
> Vhenan: my heart; endearment  
> Ara lath: My love  
> On nydha: Goodnight  
> Isalan hima sa i’na: I wish to become one with you  
> Fenedhis lasa: go fuck a wolf; essentially translates to "go fuck yourself"  
> Fen’Harel ver em: Dread wolf take me  
> Vera em su tarasyl: Take me to the sky  
> Ma nuvenin: As you wish


	8. Something Like Vallaslin

She awoke alone to the feeling of the autumn sun warming her feet. Kirkwall was warmer than she was used to, having been in Skyhold for so long. She sat up with a start, pulling the blanket over her bare chest.

_Is it already midday? I must have slept..._

_Wait, where is Solas?_

She looked around the room and saw that her hurriedly discarded clothing was folded neatly on the desk, though his was curiously missing from the stack. On top of her tunic, a letter was addressed to her, the flowing script showing an artist’s care. She opened it tenderly, trying to avoid creasing or damaging the paper. There were two sheets contained inside.

_Vhenan,_

_I had meant to stay by your side this morning until your eyes fluttered open, just so that I could be the first thing that they happened upon. However, I eventually discovered that your exhaustion was even greater than I anticipated. While it pained me to extricate myself, especially as lovely as I find you dreaming, there is much work for me to do. I promised to help Merrill with her eluvian and the repairs are more challenging than I originally expected. Repairing the mirror will allow us to continue directly to Skyhold, after our work here is finished. While I enjoyed our travels across Ferelden together, I believe that time is one resource we do not have in excess._

_Again, I am sorry for departing without waking you. I had promised not to leave, but I hope you will understand that this is just a temporary parting—not indicative of any larger trend._

_I love you, eternally._

_-S_

Behind the letter, she found that he had left her a sketch. It was her, sleeping, a small smile on her face, her arms clinging to the blanket as she had clung to him the night before. It was beautiful in its simplicity and she wondered how long he had sat there watching her, trying to perfect the image, before finally deciding to leave. Her heart skipped.

She took the sketch in her hand and copied it. His lines were smoother than hers, more practiced and fluid. But she tried to capture his artistry and mimic it. To her drawing she added another element that had been missing from the original. In her version, Solas stood before her, kissing the top of her head as she imagined he had before leaving. She admired the work, held it to her chest, and tucked it inside of her desk drawer.

Crossing the room, she glanced back once more before entering the hallway, closing the door gently, and making her way down the stairs.

“Ah! She arises!” Varric and Hawke were sitting at the table, enjoying what was clearly already lunch. “We thought we would need to track down Merrill to send up after you.”

She grimaced. “Have you been waiting long? You could have woken me.”

Hawke laughed. “After your wild night? We decided it was best to let you sleep in as long as possible.”

Her mouth dropped and she could feel her cheeks reddening. “You...”

Hawke winked at her. Her coloring grew even more pronounced. “While there _are_ walls here, we’re not completely deaf and they’re not completely soundproof.”

She groaned, glancing at Varric. “Not you too?”

“Unfortunately, I think you probably kept all of Hightown awake last night.”

She sat down, putting her head in her hands.

Varric laughed, glancing pointedly at Hawke. “Don’t worry about it. At least someone is getting attention. Though honestly, I never will understand what it is with you heroes and sad elven boyfriends. Maybe I should get one to see what it’s like.”

Hawke gave him a sideways look. “Yeah, and he wouldn’t be able to stand you for more than five minutes.”

Varric shrugged. “That’s part of my charm.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, lovebirds. We should probably read through these reports on the Tevinter murders.”

“Already, done, boss. You were asleep for a long time. We got bored. We’ve created a map, here, detailing the locations of the attacks. If you draw a circle around the radius of the incidents, you’ll notice one particular place is roughly near the center.”

“Sundermount. He’s so close.” She looked at Hawke. His expression was inscrutable.

Varric nodded. “That he is. Let’s go gather up our cranky elf before he hurts more people.”

“More _slavers_ you mean. I think they’ve given up their claim on our pity,” Hawke said.

“Fair enough. Let’s grab him before he gets himself hurt, then.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Merrill and Solas to return?”

Varric shook his head, shrugging. “Those two seem a little preoccupied with their elfy stuff. No offense, boss. We’d be better off leaving without them and allow them to finish fixing that magic portal while we’re gone. As much as I _love_ homecomings, I wouldn’t be sad to be gone from this place.”

Hawke nodded, with a slight hesitation. “Yes. We’d better be off.”

\--

The sun was beginning to set as they finally reached the Vimmark mountains north of Kirkwall. The sky was glowing red just behind the peaks as the small group made their way up to the peak of Sundermount. They weren’t sure exactly where their quarry had made camp, but it was undoubtedly on the mountain.

Light footprints going in both directions marked the pathway.

“How often to travelers come to Sundermount?” She asked her companions, indicating the tracks.

“Never,” Hawke replied. “Not unless they have a death wish.”

She nodded. “Then it appears that we are going the right way.”

She followed the tracks and telltale markings, leading the two men. It reminded her of different days, tracking game with her clan. Different times, different responsibilities, different friends. She was glad for the fresh air though. The stench of the city had been wearing on her. And, even more, she was glad for the company.

“So, what is our plan when we finally do manage to catch up with him?” Varric said, looking directly at Hawke.

“Try to keep him from killing us.” Hawke had looked a little ill all morning. Nerves, she imagined. There was no telling how his former ally would respond to seeing him again.

Varric turned to her. “I’m putting you in charge of making sure Hawke doesn’t do anything too stupid. Like charging in like an idiot.”

She groaned. “Why is he suddenly _my_ responsibility?”

He shook his head, massaging it with his hand. “Because every time I’ve tried, it resulted in utter and abject failure. I’m hoping you’ll have better luck keeping him in check.”

Hawke looked perturbed, frowning slightly. “I’m right here, you know. I _have_ ears.”

“Yeah, you have ears, and precious little between them,” he replied.

“As much as I love listening to you bicker like old maids, I _would_ like to get home before tomorrow evening.”

“Yes ma’am,” said Varric, turning back to the trail. “So, I’m thinking that I go in first, with the Inquisitor behind me, and Hawke goes in last. Or maybe waits outside. Yeah, that might be best, actually.”

Hawke balked. “I will _not_ be waiting outside!”

“COME ON!” She rolled her eyes. “You are both children.”

The sun was setting in full before they found the cave that was serving as Fenris’s temporary home. Despite Varric’s suggestion, she entered the cavern first, Varric and Hawke following closely behind. The air was cool and drafty—a slight staleness hung in the air the further they descended. The walkways were slim, forcing them to break into a line to pass through. She held out a torch, the glow reflecting eerily off of the damp walls. She wished her other hand could be clutching at the hilt of her sword, but that was no longer an option.

She stopped as the passage opened up into a cavern, its ceiling at least 60 feet above her head. Stalactites hung above them, dripping water down upon them. She tried to brush the droplets off of her chin while holding the torch, but eventually gave up, handing it to Varric.

The corner of the cavern was covered in papers. Maps, charts, shipping ledgers, and illustrations littered the ground seemingly with no organization. A makeshift bed—mostly composed of a pile of discarded cloaks, sat nearby. Several unlit candles, wicks nearly gone, were knocked about.

They had found Fenris.

The sound of a sword drawing echoed across the room. She quickly turned, unsheathing her own blade in response, but could not tell the direction of the noise with all of the reverberations.

Then she saw a shadow behind them, skin glowing in an unusual pattern, in the torchlight.

In an instant he was in front of her—hands on her neck, pulling her off of her feet.

“WHO SENT YOU?” The figure—she now saw that he was an elf—roared. His accent was distinctly Tevene, reminding her of Dorian’s musical lilt.

“You really think she’ll be able to answer you with your hands around her neck? Drop her, Fenris.” Hawke’s voice was cool and detached.

_He’s playing the part well_.

Her assailant let go of her throat and she collapsed on the cavern floor, hand rubbing her rapidly bruising skin.

Fenris did not move. His face was stone, completely smooth and emotionless. The markings on his skin looked _something_ like vallaslin, but they seemed so _wrong_. They seemed to cover him from head to toe and she had never seen such extensive blood writing.

He stepped slowly backwards from Hawke, just as Hawke approached, extending a hand to help her back to her feet.

“Fenris, wait,” Hawke’s voice had lost its edge. It was beginning to betray his emotions, probably against his wishes.

“You... I...” Fenris struggled with words. She noticed that he hadn’t taken his eyes off of Hawke.

Varric intervened. “We’ve come to ask for your help. We’ve heard that you’ve gotten pretty good at killing Tevinter slavers. We’d like someone with that particular skillset to join us. The Inquisition, that is.” He motioned to her. “Meet our illustrious leader. The one you just tried to strangle. Luckily, she’s not very good at holding grudges.”

“How did you find me?” Fenris addressed Hawke, paying the others little heed.

“Don’t think yourself too clever. You left a pretty obvious trail. String of slavers dead? Slaves freed? That has your signature written all over it.”

“I got Varric’s letter. He said you tried to kill yourself.”

Hawke tutted. “He would emphasize that, wouldn’t he? I didn’t so much as _try_ to kill myself as I tried to save others from being stuck physically in the Fade for all of eternity or _possibly_ being butchered by an angry Nightmare demon. And I would have succeeded, if not for the Inquisitor.”

Fenris turned to her for the first time. “Thank you. For keeping him from being an idiot.”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t easy. He doesn’t listen well.”

He turned back to Hawke.

His fist connected with the other man’s jaw.

“And that’s because you were being an idiot. Again.” He rubbed his hand, where the knuckles had hit Hawke’s face. “Idiot.”

Hawke rubbed his injured face tenderly, the skin already reddening. “Maker, what the _hell_?”

Varric shrugged. “You probably deserved it.”

Fenris smiled, slightly. “He definitely deserved it.”

Hawke looked at her and she glanced at him, helplessly.

“So, will you help us?”

He looked at Hawke.

_There is a hunger there, underneath the fury. I can empathize with that._

He turned to Varric. “You have done a terrible job protecting him. It seems I must intervene, in case the Inquisitor is too busy. To babysit this fool. And killing more magisters would be an added bonus.”

The Inquistor extended her arm towards the strange elf, trying not to think about how her neck was going to look in the morning. “Welcome to the Inquisition, Fenris. We are glad to have you.”

Varric grinned. “Yes, well... Let’s see how long it takes you to regret that statement, Inquisitor. My guess is approximately... Ten minutes.”

Fenris’s glare was enough to silence any further comment.

“Let’s go, then.”

“Don’t you want to pack up?” She motioned to the papers.

“I am already done. Let’s go. There’s nothing for me here.”

“Okay...”

“I already killed everyone.”

“Um... Well, let’s get back to Hightown then. Perhaps Solas and Merrill will be done by now.”

Fenris perked. “Merrill? She’s there too? Will she be joining us?”

Varric nodded. “Growing sentimental, Broody?”

“No, I bought her some trinkets a few years ago as a favor. She never paid me back.”

Hawke sighed.

They turned to leave the encampment, Fenris’s meagre belongings scattered about.

In truth, she had expected the elf to put up a much greater resistance to his recruitment into the Inquisition. Though, she supposed he didn’t have many ties. She tried to imagine Hawke, Varric, Merrill, and Fenris running about Thedas, starting rebellions and putting down invasions. Somehow, she couldn’t picture any of them together.

They started out of the cave, an odd bunch of colleagues.

_I guess it’s no stranger than the circumstances we find ourselves in currently._

\--

“We should play a game.”

She nodded, pouring another drink. When they had arrived, Solas and Merrill had already finished their work with the mirror and were both reading, before the group of them interrupted. Now six places were sat at a long table in Hawke’s Hightown estate, wine glasses set in front of each of them. Merrill looked up from her book, finally registering that there were other people in the room.

“Hello! Oh, I didn’t really hear... Or I wasn’t paying attention... Welcome back! Have you been here long?”

“Almost an hour, Daisy,” Varric said.

“Oh, I’m sorry... I was reading about... Well anyway! Welcome!” Her face grew suddenly concerned. “Oh dear! What happened to your neck? It wasn’t marked like that last time we spoke! And Hawke... Your poor face! Did you run into a doorframe? Sometimes I find myself with bruises and cannot remember... Oh, hello Fenris.”

Hawke stopped her. “You could say we both ran into something.”

She noticed Fenris suppressing the slightest of smiles. Solas looked at her, then at the strange elven man, then back at her.

“What do you have in mind, Varric?” Hawke asked the question, trying to divert the conversation away from the cause of their injuries.

“A drinking game, of course. I forget the name, but it isn’t really important. We sit in a circle and one person…” he laughed. “Ridiculous, really. But fun.”

Fenris swirled the wine in his glass absently. “Just tell us the mechanics, Varric, so we can decide if this diversion is worth our time.”

The dwarf nodded. “Right. Anyway, what it involves is one person—we can call them our Inquisitor—makes a statement. Each person decides if that statement applies to them. If so, they drink. And explanations are encouraged, but not required.”

“Is the purpose for this Inquisitor to drink, or to avoid drinking?” Hawke interjected.

Varric smiled wryly. “That is entirely up to the Inquisitor.” He glanced at her. “The in-game Inquisitor, of course. I think I know the preference of our noble leader.”

She raised her glass, wine sloshing. “Why would I choose to not partake in the lovely vintage our host has so generously supplied?”

“Well put,” Varric said. “Now who would like to start? I could give an example.”

“As the illustrious host, I am afraid I am forced to intercede. I will begin,” Hawke said, smiling.

Solas and Fenris stood to leave, nearly simultaneously.

“I will take my leave then. I have work I should see to…”

Fenris nodded, “I prefer to drink alone.”

The Inquisitor fixed them with a gaze that could have turned them to stone. “Sit. Down. Now.”

The elven men shared a glance, and sighing, returned to their seats.

Hawke laughed at their seeming annoyance. “Well, now that that’s settled, I will begin.” He cleared his throat. “I find myself to be an ill-humored elven man.” His eyes never left Fenris, as he spoke.

“That was unnecessary,” said Solas, frowning.

“It was entirely necessary, Chuckles,” replied Varric, the corners of his mouth upturned in a sly grin. “And I believe you should drink.” He looked to Fenris. “You too, Broody.”

Solas met her eyes as he brushed the goblet to his lips. He tilted it slowly, downing the entire glass with one motion.

“Maker, you didn’t need to drink the whole thing!” Hawke said, laughter ringing in his voice. “Well, suit yourself. Though I doubt you are going to last long at that pace.”

The elf smiled, knowingly. “You would be surprised at my tolerance for such things.”

She raised her eyebrows, giving him a sideways look.

Merrill was practically dancing with excitement. “Oooh, let me try this time! I would like to go next!”

Varric nodded. “Go ahead Daisy. Give us your best.”

“Well, let me see… Hmm… I want to think of something I haven’t done. Let’s see. Oh! I know. I’ve never entered the Deep Roads! If you have, you should drink!”

Varric shook his head. “Agh, Daisy. I think you captured all of us with that one.”

They each raised their glasses, taking a swig of the wine. Again, Solas downed his cup, pouring another before anyone had a chance to speak.  
“Solas, you may wish to pace yourself. You’ve already had more to drink tonight than in the entire time we’ve known each other.”

Solas raised an eyebrow, winking. “If I am to drink, then I am going to drink. I have lost time to make up for.”

Varric laughed. “That’s the spirit! You could take some lessons, Broody.” He glanced at Fenris.

“I prefer to keep my wits about me. I’m less dangerous that way.”

Hawke shook his head. “Fenris, you have a particular knack for dampening the mood. Come sit next to me. Perhaps my joviality will rub off on you.”

Fenris stiffened, visibly from across the table.

“Go on, Broody. You shouldn’t keep the man waiting.”

Fenris sighed, taking the empty chair next to Hawke. She noticed that he made a special effort to ensure that their thighs were just too far apart to touch.

“Ah, and now we’re back to me!” Varric said, a smile spreading across his lips. “And I know exactly what to say.

“I, myself, have never lusted after our lovely Inquisitor. No offense, Boss. You’re not exactly my type.” He stared at Solas intently. “If you have, I think you should pour yourself another glass.”

Solas drank again, not sparing a drop, his eyes meeting hers for the duration of the motion.

He was not the only one to drink, however.

Hawke had also taken a sip and Fenris was currently glaring at him.

Hawke shrugged. “I can recognize beauty when I see it. Nothing like the end of the world to inspire a little infatuation. Sorry, Inquisitor.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. She highly doubted that Hawke’s mind had ever strayed towards her. “I am flattered by your attention, but find myself highly unworthy. Not amongst such other, more esteemed, options.”

Fenris seemed grateful for her intervention, if only slightly. He still looked irritated with his neighbor and fixed his eyes on the wine in the center of the table.

“Are you all trying to spare me from drinking? I know I can be... I get a little... It’s easy for me to get drunk. I know I haven’t done much worth mentioning, but I would like to have some wine too. It seems to pleasant. Oh, I will stop talking now...”

The Inquisitor smiled. “Well enough, Merrill. I have never found myself practicing blood magic.”

The young woman seemed overjoyed. “But I have!” She took a swig from her glass. “Oh, this is quite good, Hawke!”

He nodded. “Fenris and I swiped it from a certain asshole Magistrate. There are a few bottles left that I had been saving for a special occasion.”

Fenris seemed to smile at that, fully, for the first time. “I didn’t know you had kept it. I had assumed you had simply had them sent from Tevinter.”

Hawke shook his head. “I wouldn’t drink them without you, Fenris. Not when you were the one to introduce me to the vintage in the first place.”

She wasn’t sure if she had imagined it, but Fenris seemed a few inches closer to his former lover. She found herself smiling.

“Your turn, Chuckles.”

Solas’s brow furrowed. “Hmm… So many options I could use. But I shall choose something straightforward. I have never used magic.”

Merrill, Hawke, and Solas made no move for their glasses. Fenris and Varric reached for theirs. She reached out a hand to take her cup, but Solas stopped her, a hand on her wrist.

“That isn’t entirely true for you, vhenan. Not anymore.”

Varric looked confused. “She is no mage.”

Solas nodded. “She wasn’t.”

Hawke’s expression was puzzled. “If she isn’t a mage, then how could she use magic?”

Solas smiled. “I used the past tense to describe her lack of magical abilities.”

Merrill interjected. “Magic manifests in children, not adults. I have never seen an example otherwise. Unless… You have seen more of the world than I… Perhaps you would be more knowledgeable?”

“Magical talent can be taught. And I have been able to successfully teach it.”

Hawke frowned. “That’s impossible.”

“I thought so too,” the Inquisitor responded. “But Solas is correct. I felt it. I am not capable of doing anything complicated and I doubt I will ever be particularly good at it, but I _have_ been able to channel it.”

Fenris groaned. “Exactly what the world needs. More mages.”

Varric shook his head. “Now, let’s not get into this conversation. Not when we were just having fun. Broody, let’s save this for another day.”

The elf sighed, his body drooping. “Fine. It seems it’s my turn anyway.”

Hawke turned to him. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Fenris frowned. “If you all are permitted to make ridiculous claims to force me to drink, it is only fair that the option is mine as well. And I will accept.” He paused, looking at his companions. “I have hurt people.”

They all shifted uncomfortably. Merrill was the first to reach for her glass.

Solas looked surprised. “You? Really?”

She sighed, frowning. “It must not have escaped your attention that I am a Dalish elf living alone in Kirkwall. There is a reason for that. It starts with the eluvian you helped me to repair.

“My clan found it. And after one of my classmates disappeared into its depths, the mirror shattered. My Keeper insisted that the mirror should be discarded, left to the past. I disagreed. I made a pact with a demon, who taught me the magic I needed to purify it. Eventually the demon… He wanted to use me to free himself from his prison. My Keeper protected me. She died for her efforts. I held the blade myself.”

Solas met her eyes. “Ir abelas, Merrill. I did not know that you held such pain in your heart.”

She nodded. “If not for Hawke…”

Hawke waved a hand. “It is no matter, Merrill. It is in the past.”

“I know. But the shards of the past can still cut.”

Varric frowned, reaching for his glass. “I am sorry Daisy. It was a nasty business. I am glad you made it out of there.

“I have obviously hurt people as well. I convinced my brother, Bartrand, to embark on a foolish expedition in the Deep Roads after the Blight ended. It killed him. Rather, the Red Lyrium we found did. After he lost his mind.” He shook his head. “Broody, you really know how to lighten up a place.”

The elf shrugged. “Your mistake in forcing me to stay for this.”

She and Hawke reached for their glasses, lifting them to their lips. “For obvious reasons,” Hawke said, frowning.

Fenris took his glass in hand, drinking deeply. “I turned myself into a weapon for a power-hungry magister to purchase freedom for my mother and sister. And I could not find myself willing to accept love when it was offered to me freely. When I realized my mistake, it was too late.”

Hawke looked at him. “Fenris… I…”

He raised his hand. “There is no need. It has been done.”

“No, but…”

“I know the truth of your affections. What we had is dead. And it is my fault entirely.”

“No, listen…”

“Hawke, stop. There is nothing to say.”

She shifted uncomfortably, feeling as though they were all intruding upon something incredibly private.

Hawke stood, looking down at Fenris. “No, you stop. And I do have something to say. You think that I left because of you?”

“Clearly that was the case.”

Hawke blanched. “No, Fenris. You misunderstand. I left because of me. If I allowed you to stay with me, you would always be running.”

Fenris’s eyes flashed with anger. “I have always been running! Did you not think, not even for an instant, that it was my choice to stay with you? Did you think I was not fully aware of the consequences? That I, a fully-grown person capable of thought and decision-making processes, was incapable of making my own choices? You stole that option from me and left me with nothing.”

“Fenris, wait! I…”

Fenris had stood from the table, pushing his chair into the table abruptly. He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The rest of the party sat in shock.

“Hawke…” Varric started.

Hawke grimaced. “That was…”

“It was awful,” said Merrill. "I am sorry. He… he has never been good at expressing sorrow. Hawke, I am sure the wound will heal over. He just needs time to recover.”

“You hurt him. Incredibly. It was selfish and cruel.” Solas spoke softly, his voice filled with a sadness all his own.

“Solas, not now.”

“No, vhenan. It needs to be said.” He turned to Hawke. “You need to apologize. Now. Prostrate yourself. Do not let him leave. Try to understand how he feels. Put aside your own guilt. Let him scream at you, if that is what is necessary. Do not let him leave.”

Hawke looked at him, curiously, pain still evident in his eyes. “What would you know of pain?”

“Everything. Being another person who foolishly caused an excessive amount of it.”

Hawke nodded to the Inquisitor. “Seems to have gone alright for you, in the end.”

Solas sighed. “Only because I was willing to fix it. And because _she_ was more forgiving than I deserved. You need to do the same. Now. And hope the results are as positive.”

Merrill looked surprised. “I... had not thought you to have hurt others, Solas. It does not seem quite right for you... You helped me!”

Solas laughed at that, the unexpected sound ringing through a room that seemed hollow. “Oh, da’len. You are sweet. You think too highly of me for knowing so little. I have caused unspeakable ruin.”

She shook her head. “But you’ve also fixed things.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Yes, but one far outweighs the other. I have the most taint on my soul in all this room by far. I do not even need to know anything about _you_ to be fully aware of that fact. I have killed hundreds of thousands of people with a single wave of my hand. I relegated our kindred to oppression, subjugation, and slavery. I have caused the near destruction of our world. I have killed for love and for pride. And I have the added guilt of you thinking me innocent when it could not be further from the truth.”

Merrill sat stunned. “Hundreds… of thousands…? How…? Certainly I would have heard…”

“Oh, you have, da’len. I was given a different name, for it. My given one did not have the proper ring of malevolence.”

The Inquisitor rested a hand on his shoulder, but he brushed it away. “Solas… are you certain…?”

He met Merrill’s eyes. “I destroyed Elvhenan. For that, and for many other things, they gave me a name that would scare little children throughout the centuries.

“I am Fen’Harel.”

The young elf sat, pale and staring. “The Dread Wolf…”

“I am sorry, but you are a terrible judge of character, da’len.” He left the room abruptly, not meeting her eyes.

She did not know what to say to Merrill, her face as still as if she had been struck. She took her hand and squeezed it.

“I know that it’s hard to believe, but he speaks the truth.”

The elven woman looked at her. “What does it mean? I don’t... I don’t understand.”

She shook her head. “What we thought we knew of the world is wrong. And we need to learn to parse out the truth from the lies.”

She wrapped what was left of her arms around the woman, who rested her head on her shoulder.

“I have not known another Dalish elf for so long... I am glad that we met. Even under these circumstances.”

She smiled. “Me too, Merrill. We need all of the solace we can find. The world is a mess.”

Giving Merrill’s shoulder one last squeeze, she left the room.

\--

“I am guessing by your dejected appearance that you chose _not_ to take my advice.”

She heard a heavy sigh. “There are no words to make up for what I’ve done.”

Solas’s voice raised, his frustration audible even behind the heavy door. “You did not even _try_ did you?”

“How am I ever supposed to make this right?”

“You cannot. Not if you aren’t willing to make an effort. You are an insufferable idiot.”

“Hey, that’s unfa...”

“No, it is perfectly fair. If you are going to continue to make poor decisions, I would prefer if you stop complaining and looking as though someone ran off with your kitten.”

“Oh, that’s _rich_ coming from you. Merrill told me what you said last night. Destroying the whole _fucking world_? Are you out of your mind? And you should have _seen_ the Inquisitor when you left. That would take some of that condescension out of your voice.”

“ _Do not speak of her in that way,”_ Solas replied, his words dripping with venom.

Hawke’s laugh sounded pained. “Oh, no, I will. She had this haunted look in her eyes. Withdrawn. Spectral. She stopped eating more than absolutely necessary—Cassandra had to sit with her to make sure she finished her food. They tried to keep it a secret, but she was growing gaunt, you know? You made her think you _loved her_ and you left her without so much as a goodbye. She thought it was her fault, you ass.”

“I...”

“Yeah, the truth hurts. And fuck you. Don’t tell me how to fix my problems.”

Solas’s voice became suddenly very quiet. “I have been trying to overcome my actions. Everything I’ve done since...”

“Well, maybe I am too, though I don’t really think we can. We both fucked up royally and will probably continue on this endless cycle of fucking up until we all end up fucking killing ourselves. Or each other. I’m never sure which will come first.”

He sighed. “You’re starting to sound like Fenris. It is not a particularly good look for you.”

“Yeah, well maybe he has the right of things. The world is a mess. I might as well be too.”

“You should still apologize.”

“Fuck off.”

The door slammed and she was suddenly face-to-face with a very angry Hawke. He grunted in her general direction, not meeting her eyes, before storming off.

She entered the dining room, slowly.

Solas looked up from a letter, suddenly. “Oh, vhenan! I did not know you were there. Please tell me...”

“That I didn’t hear your little shouting match?”

He sighed. “I was just trying to help.”

She sat next to him, wrapping her arm around his torso, bringing him close. She rested her head against his shoulder. “Sometimes you have a very interesting manner of ‘helping’. I think Hawke needs some space without anyone telling him what to do. He knows what to do. He just needs to figure out how to do it.”

Solas shook his head. “The longer he waits, the harder it will become. Better to take care of it sooner. The reconciliation will only come more slowly, if at all, if he continues to delay.”

“You’re speaking from experience.”

“One of my many mistakes. I would save others from treading the same path, if it is in my powers to do so.”

“Solas, you should not be so hard on yourself.”

He shook his head. “No, I am exactly as hard on myself as I need be. You are too kind. Let us speak of something else, if you don’t mind.”

She kissed his cheek and he returned the gesture with a kiss to her lips.

“Oh! I never asked. How are the eluvian repairs going?”

He smiled. “In that at least, I have made progress. The eluvian, formerly shattered, is functional again. We should be able to use it to depart this accursed place. Merrill is jittery with anticipation. She has never had the pleasure of visiting the Crossroads. Do not give away any secrets. I think she should experience it all without any warnings.”

“She’s probably going to faint.”

“Almost certainly.”

“You like her.”

“I do. She’s incredibly challenging to not grow fond of. She knows quite a bit about ancient elven history—or at least enough as any of the Dalish. Except you, of course.”

“I find that interesting. I thought you would find her a bit too...”

“Silly?”

She nodded.

“Well, perhaps I have changed.”

“Not too much, I would hope.”

“No, not too much.” He kissed her fully on the lips again. “Do not fear, my attachment to her is like a parent to a child.”

“Solas, she’s essentially the same age as I am.”

“Age is not the only factor in play,” he said. His grin was infectious. “You have numerous other... attributes that I find alluring.”

_I can’t let that slide._

“Would you like to head upstairs? You could... tell me more about... my ‘attributes’.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, let me see... Perhaps not now. I believe Hawke probably woke everyone with his yelling. It wouldn’t be...”

She winked at him, moving to sit on his lap, her arm wrapped around his neck.

“Fine. You win.”

“You weren’t exactly a challenging opponent.”

“No, vhenan. It would seem that I am anything but. We should have at least a few minutes.” He lifted her to her feet, grabbing her hand and leading her back upstairs to her—their—bedroom.

They could speak with the others about passage back to Skyhold later. For the moment, they had other, far more interesting places to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I've currently written several chapters ahead and am hoping to continue posting while on vacation over the next few weeks, WiFi permitting!
> 
> I just published another piece set in this AU called [Ink and Lyrium](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19937704/chapters/47209879). It's a fun little piece going more into depth on Josephine and Cullen's relationship.
> 
> I'll post any other one-offs and related works for this AU as part of the [What We Have Lost](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1431250) series, so keep an eye on that for any other related works if you're interested!
> 
> Fen'Harel ma ghilana.


	9. The Ascension

Hawke was pacing around his living room, clearly agitated. “Would it not be more efficient for us to go directly to Tevinter from Kirkwall? We could hire another ship.”

Solas responded tersely. “Logistically, that is true. However, it would be of benefit to notify our allies in Skyhold and to restock with fresh equipment. We _do_ have a working eluvian now, thanks to Merrill. We can return briefly to Ferelden before returning here to set off.”

Merrill shook her head. “I had been trying for _years_ to get that that old thing working! I didn’t make any real progress until we tried together.”

He straightened further at the praise. “Thank you. It was you who saw the value of keeping something so ancient protected as opposed to simply discarding it because it didn’t seem functional. For that, we can all be grateful.”

Merrill blushed, turning to face them each in turn. “I... You’re welcome!”

Varric stood. “That settles it then. We take Daisy’s magic portal back to Skyhold, grab some stuff, come back here, and _then_ we can finally head off to Tevinter. Not that I’m _particularly_ excited about going north, but... At least it will be interesting.”

She nodded. “Lead the way, Merrill.”

Merrill looked around nervously. “Maybe I shouldn’t... Last time I went home from Hawke’s I spent an hour wandering around Hightown and then it got dark and...”

Fenris grumbled. “Oh, come on. I’ll lead.”

Hawke glowered. “You have no right to be rude to her.”

“I wasn’t being rude. You’re too sensitive”

She sighed. “Go ahead, Fenris. We’d like to reach the Imperium eventually.”

They followed the sullen elf out the door of Hawke’s estate, through Hightown, and eventually to the alienage.

The journey back had been rather uneventful, other than Merrill nearly scampering off as soon as they entered the Crossroads. The woman was as bubbly as ever and she seemed to want to admire every eluvian in the area with no regard to time.

 _Not that time is a particular problem in the Crossroads._ She was pretty sure it didn’t move in the same way there, though she could not describe _how_ in particular it was different.

Eventually they had convinced Merrill that there would be other opportunities to admire the magical in-between area. Skyhold and their friends awaited, after all. They arrived to little pomp. Varric and Hawke had elected to give a tour to their newcomers and Solas had run off to write notes about the eluvian they had repaired.

Silence was hers again.

She ran her hand against the wall of the rotunda, idly, the stone scraping against her fingertips. The beautiful frescoes still adorned the walls surrounding her and she had found herself gravitating towards the room in months past.

_Even when he was gone, he was impossible to forget._

The home she had made for herself—for the Inquisition—belonged to him, after all. The current structure may be Ferelden, but they had just built up over the previous framework, ruined when the Veil had been cast.

_No, this place always would belong to Solas. We are just interlopers here._

The morning was blissfully quiet. The silence bothered her less, now that there were fewer unknowns. She was no longer afraid to be alone with her thoughts. They had been far more pleasant of late and she relished the opportunity to experience them. She had thought that she would never find happiness again. Over time, her thoughts of him would decrease in frequency, but then she would see him in dreaming. Far off, watching, waiting. She knew not for what. The cycle would then begin anew.

Catching Solas was like trying to hold the rain in her hands in an attempt to stave off dehydration. _Hand now. He had taken that from me as well._

She looked at the paintings, depicting her actions in a fashion that made them seem far grander than they had ever been in life.

_He didn’t capture my blade, dripping with blood. Or tossing my last potion to Dorian as we fought Alexius. Or Cassandra jumping in front of a rage demon to try and save Varric. Or that time Dorian ate a bit of moderately rotten nug meat and spent the next week doubled over, completely useless, while we had to keep camp until the sickness passed._

They were all symbols, as they would always be to the outside world. Larger than themselves, which somehow made her feel smaller. She was tiny next to his depiction of her. Infinitesimal.

She wondered why he had bothered to record their actions, when he was planning on tearing the Veil asunder. Who would be left of this world to see them?

_Perhaps he still hoped, against all hope, that he could save us in the end. And if he couldn’t, he wanted to at least have a marker for our graves._

She felt ill-suited to play the games of gods. A child, dressed up as a savior. Eventually the mask would fall and they would see her true identity. She would no longer be useful to them. One day, they would abandon her.

She stood in front of the image that she knew represented the forming of the Inquisition. A silver eye standing watch over howling wolves. She leant against the wall, head in her hands.

And behind her, she heard the scraping of stone against stone.

She turned, examining the wall for loose mortar. Nothing seemed amiss to her eyes. She lifted her hand and gingerly pressed against the rock, running her fingers across the stone. To her surprise, she heard the sound again. Her fingers groped against the edges of the stone. Everything looked completely solid. But she placed her hand against the wall again, and she could feel the scratching. She pulled the loose stone out towards herself.

The air shimmered and it came away in her hand, leaving a gaping hole in the wall.

It was filled with parchments.

She looked down at the rock in her hand and the hidden chamber, previously cloaked in an illusion, not wanting to believe what she had found.

It felt like the stone in her hand had landed in her chest, crushing her lungs. She sat it on the ground and reached into the hole, grabbing the papers. She held them to her heart, using her hand to pick up the stone, and pushed the door to the Great Hall open.

She rushed past the courtiers, past Varric playing cards, past Cole throwing her a concerned look.

She kicked Solas’s door open, her hands completely occupied. He rose immediately, startled by the sudden noise.

She threw the burden at his feet and stared. He knelt to pick them up. The color faded from his face.

“Vhenan.” He looked pained, his eyes pleading. “I can explain.”

“Tell me truthfully, Solas,” she said, unable to keep her voice steady. “did you join us again so that we can lead you to another elven artifact that you will use to destroy the world?”

His eyes did not leave hers, but he did not speak.

“Tell me what I say is not true,” she demanded.

“Does it matter what I say? What reason do you have to believe me? My words should be meaningless to you, now.”

“It matters. Would you or would you not kill me to bring back this fantasy of yours?”

She looked at him, tears welling in her eyes.

“Do you think they would _cheer_ you? _Do you think you would be a hero_? Is that what you’ve always wanted? To be worshipped?” The tears were coming freely now, warm against her cheeks. “You have never been a hero.”

“I _know_ , vhenan.”

“Do _not_ call me your love, while you continue to hide away your life from me. Those letters are _recent_. Written or received or moved here since you returned.”

He nodded, slowly. “They were.”

“And you did not think to tell me?”

“I did not think you would discover them.”

She sneered. “Then you must think me a great fool. Blinded by my own feelings, my own…”

“Vhenan, you do not need to…”

She stopped him with a glare. “I do, Solas. If I read these letters, what will I find? That it was it your plan to make me love you, to fulfill some twisted fantasy, before sacrificing me to bring back all of your _real_ friends? Your _real_ lovers _?_

“ _How many more times will you hurt me?_ I would like to know, as I thought that you were thoroughly finished.”

_How many more times will I be able to forgive him?_

She looked at him, fiercely, the thought piercing her.

The sorrow in his swirling, silver eyes seemed to take the fire out of her.

She sighed, arm on her heart, breathing. She closed her eyes.

His voice was the slightest whisper. “Trusting others has not come naturally to me. I love your world as dearly as I love you. I do not work against you.”

Her breath caught and guilt began to rise like bile in her chest.

“You trusted me with no reason to do so other than my word. I betrayed that trust in my every action. I can see why you would no longer offer it to me freely. Only a fool—or a truly pure spirit—would be able to do so. One that cannot imagine all of the cruelty in the world.

“Read the letters, if you want. I promise you, vhenan. I will keep no more secrets from you.”

His words rang with a sincerity that made her ache.

“Please, just go.”

He looked confused, but turned to leave anyway.

“But don’t go far,” she added. “please, Solas. Don’t go too far.”

“Ma nuvenin, vhenan.”

She crossed the room, gathering the papers she had discarded in her anger. She pulled one from the pile, the seal—a six-eyed wolf—already broken.

_F.H.,_

_You told me to keep you abreast of any developments regarding our mutual friend. I am sorry to say that her situation has not improved. Her deformity threatens to consume her, body and soul._

_Time is a luxury she cannot afford. Should you wish to intervene on her behalf, you must do so with haste._

_Dareth shiral._

There was no signature. She reached for another, her heart pounding.

_F.H.,_

_I know you said to use this messenger strictly for the work. I thought about keeping this to myself, but thought you would want to know. It is a silly thing, really, but I know you’ve grown fond of sentimentality of late._

_The Ambassador had organized a small gala—very exclusive—to entertain the visiting Orlesian dignitaries. Our mutual friend seemed reluctant to attend, but when she descended the stairs of the Great Hall, all eyes turned to her. Even my own, I am ashamed to admit. She was truly radiant. I would end the report here, but know you would probably have my head if I deigned not to describe her more fully._

_She was robed in the deepest crimson, which contrasted beautifully with her pale skin. The gown itself was simple—no ruffles or embellishments. I must admit, they weren’t needed. Her neckline plunged lower than was strictly decorous, but I am sure that no one was offended by the display._

_You would have thought her beautiful._

_I am sorry._

_Dareth shiral._

Her body began to shake, tears forming again.

_He had one of his people spying on me. So that he could feel close. They weren’t plots. They were love letters._

Her remorse was palpable. She fell sobbing on his bed, her arm over her face, her eyes turning red from crying. She barely registered the fact that she had forced him out of his own room. His blankets smelled of him, of old book pages and warm grass. The realization made her cry harder. She held his pillow to her chest, staining it with her tears.

Bitterly, she fell asleep.

A deep foreboding shook her body, sending shivers down her spine. Her eyes caught glimpses of ruined buildings, covered in inky black. She looked down, noticing that she was clad only in her shift, feet bare. An unseen wind whipped the thin fabric against her skin, chilling her to the bone.

She realized the blackness—whatever it was—was spreading. Slowly it crept across the stone, towards her. Something told her that she could not allow it to catch up. She broke into a sprint, running in the opposite direction of its progression. Amongst broken towers and leaning parapets she ran, her feet blistering against the ground. Over her shoulder she saw that she had outrun the mysterious substance, for now.

When she turned back, two figures had appeared. One she recognized instantly.

“Solas!” She called out to the man kneeling on the ground. He did not respond to her voice. His faced was transfixed on the second figure.

Before him stood an ethereal creature, form translucent and shifting. She was slim, but seemed incredibly strong. It was impossible to make out distinct features, but she knew her to be female. The woman placed her hand underneath Solas’s chin forcing his face upwards to meet her eyes.

And then they began to glow, shimmering in the darkness.

She ran towards them.

 _Crack_.

She was knocked backwards, sliding across the stones, her skin tearing at the impact.

Leaping back to her feet, she approached gingerly, hand outstretched. It connected with a solid, invisible wall.

 _A barrier_.

Knowing that it would do no good, she pounded against the magical wall, trying to force her way in. Something about the woman made her fear for Solas. Her knuckles were scraped and bruising, blood smearing on the barrier and against her skin.

She screamed in frustration, her arm outstretched, face held towards the blackened sky.

Shards of glass rained down on her, lacerating her skin. She pressed her hand towards the barrier and it met no resistance. Solas had fallen to the ground, his robes obscuring his face.

She ran to him, lifting his body in her arms.

The black rivulets she had fled earlier from were crawling across his skin, his gray eyes as dark as midnight. On his face, they took the shape of a vallaslin, making curved markings across his forehead, cheeks, and chin. She traced the tendrils across his face before jerking her own hand away. They had spread.

Black marks crawled across her skin. They _burned_ wherever they touched, as though she was being branded. She could not contain her scream as she was covered in the dark vallaslin. Her skin felt like it was boiling. All thoughts left her, save the pain.

The ones that came after scared her more.

_Bring them to me._

She did not recognize the voice in her head. It spoke to her with authority, as though it was used to giving commands and having them obeyed.

“You will not have him!” She found herself screaming, even though she doubted her words would be heard.

“You would defy me?” A voice answered, speaking directly into her thoughts.

“I will not let you have him, damn the consequences,” she replied out loud. Her hand clutched at Solas’s shirt, willing him to awaken.

“Interesting. Let it be said that I have a soft spot for children. I will continue this game for a little while longer,” the voice paused. “Take him and go then, before I change my mind.”

The vallaslin began to recede from her own skin as well as Solas’s. As it began to vanish, her skin felt suddenly cool in the places it had been. She shook Solas, trying to rouse him. He opened his eyes. They were his, again.

She kissed him, closing her eyes.

When they opened again, she found herself in Solas’s bed, wrapped around his pillow as tightly as she had been wrapped around him a moment earlier. Moonlight was streaming in from the window, curtains blowing gently in the breeze. The letters had scattered across the room, sitting forgotten. Her heart was still racing, her body covered in sweat, and blood coated the sheets.

Her wounds had followed her from the Fade back into the waking world.

Whatever the meaning of her vision, it did not portend well.

She ran from Solas’s room, still fully dressed in her clothing from the afternoon. Throwing the door open, she crossed the Great Hall. The expansive room felt silent and stern in the early hours of the morning.

In the rotunda, she found him. He was seated at the desk in the center, arm folded on the surface, head resting against it. His eyes were not visible, but she could see his ear sticking up towards the ceiling. He did not seem to be moving. She thought back to the vision of him in Redcliffe, eyes glowing red with tainted lyrium.

 _You will not have him_. She heard the voice echo in her mind.

She knelt down, wrapping her arm around him, fear lodging in her throat.

He woke, startled. 

_Sleeping. Not dead, sleeping._

“Vhenan, I did not expect to see you.”

Her hand was on his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. They were steel gray, as always. She turned his face from one side to the other, examining him for marks of corruption. No signs of a vallaslin marred his face, corrupted or no. She laughed, but her joy turned quickly to tears.

“I was afraid that something terrible had taken you. Destroyed you. That I had lost you again and utterly, this time.”

He took her hand in his, his eyes locked on hers. “What happened, vhenan? Tell me everything.”

She looked around the room, shaking her head, afraid that saying the words out loud would make them true. She didn’t want him to worry over her. She wondered if she was making the right decision in withholding from him. _It felt so real._

“I think it was only a nightmare,” she said. “Nothing to be concerned over.”

“You come chasing after me in the middle of the night, thinking I might be…” He paused, squeezing her hand. “Did you think I was dead? And what happened to your hand?”

She shook her head. “It felt so real, Solas.”

He nodded. “Dreams always do, when we’re caught in their thrall. We will need to consider this.”

She buried her head in his chest. He turned to hold her as she wept.

“I had meant to give you something yesterday,” he said. “Afterwards… it didn’t seem right anymore. Though I could give it to you now, if you wish. It may… help.”

She had nearly forgotten about her outburst, her anger over his supposed betrayal, which ended up being his collection of letters about her. She blushed.

“I am sorry. I acted in haste. Accused you for no reason. I am sorry.”

“You read the letters, then?”

She nodded, guiltily. “Some of them, yes.”

“Then if you do not mind, I would give you something. It’s small, but…”

She smiled, wiping away a stray tear. “You have a gift for me? I would be _honored_ to receive it.”

He kissed her forehead, extricating himself from her with some slight difficulty. He reached into the wall of the rotunda, into his concealed compartment. From it, he pulled out a single braid of colored thread. The strand was intricately woven strings of blue, green, and gold thread. It must have been over one hundred different individual strings, all playing off of each other in the final product.

She gasped as he handed the braid to her. “That’s…”

He nodded. “An ara’lin’hasal. A lover’s knot.” He raised his left arm, sliding the sleeve up. She could see he wore its twin on his wrist.

“I had not thought you would put much stock into Dalish customs. Unless this is one that truly is part of our heritage?” She was hopeful, but not overly so.

He shook his head. “No, this tradition is new. Relatively speaking. Though not all young things are unworthy of replicating. I thought you would find it meaningful.”

“I do…” She looked at him intently. “But I wonder if _you_ understand its meaning.”

“That I will be with no other, for the rest of my days.” He kissed her. “I am familiar with the concept.”

“You can’t…”

“I can’t mean it? Can I not?”

“I would never expect you to… Will you not live long after I die?”

He shook his head. “I believe that when the Veil was created, I lost immortality as did the rest of our people. I have not aged over the centuries because I was in Uthenera. The Fade sustained me through the centuries. I cannot live in the waking world eternally while the Veil is in place. And I have come to realize, slowly I must confess, that a life without you is just purposeless wandering. Even if my immortality was intact, even with all I would wish to learn, I would not be able to walk alone after being so long in your presence.”

She held the braid loosely in her hand, looking up at him. _He already wears his ara’lin’hasal. He has already made his choice, probably thought it through endlessly. He does nothingwithout consideration. Nothing except deciding to stay._

Holding the braid back to him, she speaks softly. “I do not think I can manage to tie it myself.” She extends her left hand and he nods, wrapping the thin braid around her slender wrist. Three times. He holds his hand over hers, looking intently. The air between their skin shimmers and she realizes he was using magic. For what seemed the millionth time that day, she felt tears welling in her eyes.

“What was that?”

He smiled. “I’ve enchanted it. While you wear it, nightmares should no longer trouble you.”

She wrapped an arm around him, drawing him into her. “I shall never take it off.”

“I hope that you never see a reason to, vhenan. I hope that _I_ never give you a reason to.” He pulled her into a kiss, gentle and comforting.

“Solas?”

He held her gaze, bowing his head to urge her to continue.

“Thank you. It was a beautiful gift.”

He smiled and she was reminded how beautiful he was when he was truly happy. “I had hoped you would appreciate it. I meant what I said, vhenan. Every word.”

“I appreciate it. The sentiment, the gift, and all that it means. I will treasure your gift all of my days. Though, I would speak to you of what happened earlier. I still have questions.”

“We should speak more privately, if you wish.”

“The last time you offered to take me away from Skyhold to speak privately, you took the mark of my people from my face and immediately left me.”

“I will not do so again. Not unless you wish it.”

She nodded. “I would like to speak elsewhere, then. Where do you intend to take me?”

He smiled, sadly. “Somewhere as lovely as you are.”

She followed him through the Great Hall and back into the courtyard. He extended his hand as they approached the glowing eluvian. She took it in her own, feeling the warmth. Letting it ripple through her body. They stepped into the Crossroads.

They were not there for long. He found the mirror quickly, sculpted from wood that seemed to ripple in the never changing light of the Crossroads. Through the eluvian they traveled. She closed her eyes, not knowing what she would face.

When they opened, she found herself facing a cascading waterfall. The force of the water caused the entire area to be shrouded in a warm mist. Fireflies danced in the moonlight, obscured by the water until the moment which they found their light again. Purple and white flowers grew along the pool at the bottom, winding their way up the cliff until it seemed they had given up the effort.

She noticed a statue emerging from the water, where the falls met the pool. It had been eroded with time, but she recognized the likeness.

It was a wolf.

_Another place belonging to Fen’Harel. I would not be surprised to learn he owned the world, once._

“Where is this place?” The eluvian glowed dimly behind them.

“I do not believe it has a name in your time. It was called ‘The Tears of the Gods’. I came here often, once.”

She smiled, gently. “It is beautiful. Truly.”

“I hoped you would find it suitable.”

“You never settle for merely ‘suitable’.” She motioned for him to join. “Will you sit next to me?”

“If you do not mind.”

She shook her head and he sat on the grass before her.

“Earlier, when I... Why did you not stop me? Why did you not tell me that I was wrong in suspecting you of duplicity?”

“Truthfully?”

“Truthfully.”

“You were not wrong to suspect me. About this, yes, but there were many other reasons I’ve given you to distrust me. If I’m honest, I felt _relief_ when you finally confronted me in anger. Loving you has been so _easy_ for me. I have not made it so for you. Even if it was selfish of me to allow you to hurt, my guilt was assuaged by your words. Your anger towards me. It was nothing I have not deserved from the moment we met.”

“You did not deserve to hear the things I said.”

“I did, vhenan. I do. If all the demons in the Fade came bearing down upon my head, then still my punishment would not suffice.”

“You have to stop this, Solas. You cannot bear this by yourself.”

“All my life, I’ve walked alone. Until we met, I felt hollow. I know for certain that I don’t deserve you.”

“Solas, please.”

He shook his head, brow furrowed. “You told me that I’m no hero and I understand what you think I must be.”

“Do you?”

“Evil.”

“No.”

“Then you are wrong.”

“When have I ever been wrong?”

“When it comes to me, often.”

“Come here. Did I not just confess my undying love for you?”

“I shouldn’t.”  
“You should.”

He moved towards her, reluctantly, still seated. She embraced him, her hand on the back of his head, pulling him close. She wished she could pull his sorrow into herself, to ease his suffering.

“I love you. I am sorry for hurting you, but please stop causing yourself pain. You have enough of it already. You’ve paid the price.”  
“I am still alive. I have paid nothing.”  
“If I believed in fate, I would say that you’re here to try to make things right. To me. To Thedas.”

“You put too much faith in me.”  
“And you too little in yourself.”

“Why do you love me? I know that you said it and... you demonstrate it in thousands of ways, but it is not something I completely understand.”

“You really cannot see?”

“Humor me.”  
“Your endless quest for knowledge. Your ability to understand the world in ways nobody else would care to. Your boundless compassion.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Do _not_ give me that look. Do you think a dispassionate person would have freed the slaves of ancient Elvhenan? Would have thrown away his way of life to try and secure their freedom? No, Solas. You are the most compassionate individual I have met. Even counting Cole, who is supposed to be a physical embodiment of the sentiment. And I love you for it. More than you will ever understand, apparently.

“There will be enough in this world that will try to tear you from me.” She thought of the shadow from her dream growing across his face. “Do not give it more cause. You deserve forgiveness. From me, yes, but mostly from yourself.”

“I will try, vhenan. Even if I disagree.”

She looked at him as though he was a child, fidgeting and complaining during his lessons.

“I am sorry. I _will_ try.”

“Good. I will expect nothing less.”

“I would show you something tonight. I believe it is time that you learned the truth of Arlathan. Of the fall. Then you can cast judgement upon me.”

“My love, I do not think more understanding will lead me to forsake you. It hasn’t yet.”

“We will see, vhenan. I look forward to being wrong.”

She stood to return to the eluvian, to Skyhold, when he grabbed her hand.

“The stars are out, vhenan. The weather here is still warm and the grass soft. Would you...?”

She nodded, and moved to lay next to him. Her head gently rested on his chest, rising and falling with each of his breaths. He held her in his arms, warm and strong.

The weight of the enchanted ara’lin’hasal on her wrist and his proximity brushed away any thoughts of the nightmare.

Sleep found her willing and spirited her away.

\--

When she opened her eyes, Solas was already there, standing in front of his younger self. Their surroundings were obscured, swirling mist making it challenging to see anything that was not directly in front of her.

Young Solas was strong, a sword at his back and staff in his hands. Then she noticed a detail she had not seen before, when Solas had shown her last.

This version of him wore the thin lines of a vallaslin on his face. A tree bloomed out from his nose, the branches covering his forehead.

A symbol she had recognized well. She had born that very mark not long ago.

Mythal’s vallaslin. She knew what that meant in his time. He had been a slave.

She looked at _her_ Solas, who stood with his hand under his chin, studying the figure.

“I did not know you wore a vallaslin. I have never seen you with one, even in the Fade.”

“I labored over whether to show you. I did not want to. I thought you would think less of me, or... No. You wouldn’t. I served Mythal for years. Hundreds of years.”

“You were her slave.”

“A well-treated slave, yes. I ranked highly among her court, her second in command. Even given that, I was not free. I belonged to her.”

She studied his reflection. The younger Solas seemed fiercer, angrier, less sorrowful.

“Did you love her?”

He shook his head. “I thought I did, yes. She could not love me in return. One cannot love someone they seek to own. And I could not love her, not truly, though I had thought I did. Loving someone when you have no option to leave is no true affection. Though this was not all I wished to show you.”

“Show me, then. I am ready.”

He nodded. The figure in front of him moved and the mist began to burn away. They revealed elaborately carved tunnels, lit by torchlight, the glow of deep mushrooms, and something in the walls that was glowing a pale blue. Young Solas was alone, wandering through cavernous halls. They appeared underground somewhere.

“Where are we?”

“These are my memories of the Deep Roads, before they earned that name. We are deep within the earth, in the civilization of the ancient dwarves.”

They followed after Solas’s specter, descending into the ground. When she thought they could not go any farther, the ground began to slope up again. She wondered at it—there were often several passageways, but young Solas never seemed to hesitate. He was sure of his quarry, whatever it was.

The walls thinned and they were forced to walk one after the other, Solas following behind her.

“Do not worry, nothing here can hurt you.”

She was not so certain, given the beating she had taken from her last dream. She said nothing, her feet carrying her towards their destination.

The passage opened suddenly into an expansive cavern, which could have held all of Skyhold castle without feeling the slightest bit cramped. She nearly walked straight into young Solas, who had stopped, staring at something. She stepped around him, realizing what had caught his eye.

The center of the cavern held a massive structure. A leafless tree made of stone, branches spread across the ceiling of the cavern. It was larger than any tree she had seen in waking, even the ancient trees in Mythal’s trees would have cowered before the behemoth. Where the tree met the rock, rivulets of the glowing blue substance formed veins that had stretched throughout the passages of the cave. She finally recognized it.

_Unrefined lyrium. This place is pure magic._

“We are looking at a Titan. The ancient dwarves worshipped them as gods. They have the ability to shape the earth itself, bending it to their will. Their blood is lyrium. And I meant to kill this one.”

She looked at him, horrified.

“You meant to kill something _this beautiful_?”

He nodded. “We feared the dwarves. They, or their Titans, sent earthquakes that shook our cities to the core. The Evanuris sent me to fight back, to see if they could be killed.”

“They sent you not _knowing_ that success was even possible?”

He frowned. “I was a slave. A valuable one, yes. A strong one, yes. But to the Evanuris, we were expendable. Even to Mythal.”

She shook her head. “But you’re Fen’Harel. You were an Evanuris yourself, were you not.”

“Impatient, are you? You should watch, vhenan. I have had millenia to perfect the telling of this story, not thinking I would ever get the chance.”

She turned back to young Solas, who approached the Titan, unsheathing his sword and dropping his staff.

“Why...?”

“Magic behaves unexpectedly here. The lyrium prevents it from functioning properly. I will only use it to set barriers, nothing more. This is a physical fight.”

The ground began to rumble under their feet. She shifted uncomfortably, watching the younger Solas approach the great tree. He seemed an ant next to the Titan.

Rocks began to shower down on him, slapping against his barrier. Her Solas had thrown up a barrier of his own, sheltering them both from the onslaught. A branch whipped through the air, with a speed she thought impossible for something made of stone. It moved like an arrow, straight for Solas’s chest. He erected another barrier, stronger and more pointed, to prevent the branch from penetrating.

Another whipped around, threatening to stab him from behind. He spun, facing it and bringing his blade down hard, severing it from the Titan. It lay unmoving on the ground, as still as rock. Pointed rocks shot at him from above, crossbow bolts in the dimly lit cavern. He crouched, rolling out of the way before they landed. He was moving so quickly that she suspected he was using some sort of magic to sustain himself. No mortal would be able to maintain that pace.

_Though, now that I remember, Solas was no mortal then._

He slashed at the branches, rocks glittering against barriers, moving ever closer to the center of the room. As he progressed, the air seemed to still, Solas drawing closer to the trunk of the giant tree, its center glowing with the same eerie blue light that lined the walls. Suddenly, when he was in striking distance of the trunk, branches accosted him from all directions. Instead of protecting himself, he drove his blade into the heart of the tree.

The branches took him, tearing through his body.

She ran towards him, her Solas following closely after her. The young man was held in place by the tendrils of stone piercing his flesh. He was stuck nearly a dozen times. Several passed through his chest and one, she was horrified to see, seemed to have penetrated his heart. She looked up at him. “Do something. Please, Solas.”

He shook his head. Blood was dripping down young Solas’s body, pooling at his limp feet. His eyes were barely open, his head drooping.

“Solas! You need to do something! He will die!”

He shook his head again.

She heard a faint clapping come from the other side of the chamber.

A beautiful woman, slender and clothed in spun moonlight entered the chamber. Her pale skin glowed softly and her blonde hair fell loosely down to her knees.

“You have done well, Wolf. I was not sure what to expect from you, if I must be truthful. You surpassed by greatest hopes. With this power, we can free the elves from the abuse of the other Evanuris.”

She moved towards the center of the room, past young Solas’s dying body. Past her and Solas. The woman reached the center of the trunk and pulled Solas’s blade from the stone. Behind it, there was a glowing orb. She thrust her hand deep into the tree and pulled the shining blue crystal from its housing. She pressed the crystal to her chest and it _entered_ her. The woman shuddered, arms outstretched. She closed her eyes, either in pain or ecstasy. When her eyes opened again, they glowed with the same unearthly light that the orb had given off.

_Crack_

The tree began to crumble, the branches falling first. The woman threw up a lazy barrier as she approached young Solas, his body completely unmoving.

She pressed his hand to his forehead, whispering. The branches holding him in place began to disintegrate with the rest of the titan and he collapsed to the floor. She saw his skin knitting back together where he had been pierced. The expansion of the puddle of blood feet slowed and eventually stopped. He stirred, moving slowly. The woman pulled his head towards hers. Her other hand hovered above his forehead and the air between began to shimmer.

She had seen this before. The woman was removing his vallaslin. She let out the breath she had been surprised to find herself holding.

_He would live. Clearly, as she was standing next to Solas’s future incarnation. Even so, she had feared for him._

“You have performed a great service for the People today, Wolf. A great service deserves a great reward. I grant you your freedom and more besides.”

She raised a hand and Solas elevated, his feet dangling in the air.

“Rise, Fen’Harel. Now our work begins in earnest.”

The vision began to fade, leaving her standing alone with the Solas from her time.

She looked at her Solas. “What does it mean?”

“The woman you saw was Mythal. The event you saw was the one that eventually lead to her death, my uprising, and the creation of the Veil.”

_She called him Fen’Harel. Had he already been given that name, or... And does the removal of her vallaslin from his face suggest that Mythal meant to make him an Evanuris?_

“What did she take from the Titan?”

“Something she had no right to. Its heart.”

“Why would she want it?”

He sighed. “Why do people do anything? Mythal sought power. She sensed that the Evanuris were growing vain. Falon’Din had already begun to pick off lands from the other Evanuris in an attempt to bolster his number of followers. Mythal wanted to stop him and the others from mistreating their subjects. The Titans seemed to possess an incredible power. She was the first of my people to steal it for herself.”

She looked at him then. The man before her had realized the consequences of his actions, seen that his people had no right to what they had stolen from the dwarves. “Thank you for telling me.”

He smiled, studying her face. “I have been wanting to. You were the first to love me for myself. When I enslaved to Mythal, I was the dutiful servant. To my followers, I was Fen’Harel, the leader of the rebellion. To the Inquisition, I was an apostate with a convenient amount of knowledge. To you...”

“You are Solas, a combination of all of those roles and much more besides.”

He smiled, holding her. “Yes. You were the first person who truly _saw_ me. I have always been alone. I no longer feel that way.” He held her wrist, pressing the ara’lin’hasal to his lips. “I would share everything with you, vhenan. I never thought I would have that luxury. Now that I have it, I could never bring myself to let you go.”

She stood on her toes, leaning up to kiss him. His lips felt so soft, so warm, even in the Fade.

“I couldn’t let you go, either,” she said, resting her hand on his cheek. “That’s why we’re here.”

He smiled, kissing her again. “And for that I will be eternally in your debt. Thank you, for that too.”

“For loving you?”

“For making me see that it isn’t hopeless.”

She laughed. “I will never understand how you always see the worst in a situation. Simply because you can conceptualize a terrible outcome, does not mean it will come to pass.”

He shook his head, smiling slightly. “Unfortunately, I have seen quite a bit of the world. Usually the worst thing that _could_ happen eventually does.”

She threw her arm around his shoulder, as though they had just spent a long night drinking together. “Unfortunately for _you_ , I wasn’t around then to try and fix things. But now I am. You need not worry. I fixed your little hole in the sky—with help of course—and I will fix whatever this is too. I will make things right.”

She had barely finished speaking when he had pressed her lips against his again. “For some reason, despite all logic, that makes me feel better.”

“I love you.”

“And I you.”

Her eyes opened to a pink-tinged sky, as the sun began its ascent. Solas was still there, his chest rising and falling, still under the spell of sleep. She stayed as still as possible, trying not to rouse him. Wordless proximity was a rare treat. He was in her breath, the smell of grass, burning candles, and drying paint filling her senses. They reminded her of evenings spent in the library, asking him about the Fade while he sketched out a mural as the evening grew late. He was on her fingertips, the slight scratch of his roughspun tunic against her skin. It reminded her of the evening, not long ago at all, where they _nearly_ made love. He was in her heart, along with the knowledge that he was _here finally_ and _hers_ filled her with such an overwhelming joy that it was able to drown out the sense of foreboding that had haunted her since before she traveled to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

She knew that she had made the right choice. _How could I not have saved him? At least tried?_

She could not imagine a world in which it was not worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Things have been crazy at this conference, but I'm happy to finally get a chance to post this! I loved/hated writing this chapter. 
> 
> I'll try to post next week as well as long as my internet holds up. I'm traveling until the 9th, so things may be a touch spotty. I've got some fun chapters coming up. And you'll never believe this, but I've actually written some Tevinter chapters. 
> 
> Beautiful, ominous cover art for this chapter by the wonderful [Lethendralis](https://lethendralis-paints.tumblr.com)! Heap your copious praise directly upon the head of this wonderful woman.
> 
> Dareth shiral.


	10. Minrathous Calling (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an NSFW chapter! You've been warned!

Her entrance to the War Room was met with an unnerving silence. Eight people were present and none, not even Varric or Josephine, seemed interested in talking. Fenris glowered over a cup of what she hoped was tea, but guessed was probably spiked with something alcoholic. He was looking in the exact opposite direction of where Varric and Hawke sat together. Merrill had a book and was looking over it occasionally, to see if anyone seemed willing to speak, each time turning back to her pages in disappointment. Cullen seemed to be absently starting at one of Josephine’s sleeves, a fact which she pointedly ignored. Cassandra was pacing the room, head in her chin. And Solas was... staring at her, smiling. She understood the feeling. This would be the first time that so many of them were together again. Before he had returned, she had missed his calm input, softening discussions as they became heated between some of the more outspoken of their companions. He belonged here as much as any of them. She was grateful for his presence this morning.

“Should we begin?” she asked the room. “Dorian said I would need to relay everything he says to the rest of you. He made the crystal such that only I would hear his voice.”

Varric shook his head. “He loves to make things inconvenient for the rest of us.”

Solas approached her, holding his hand out. “Can I see the sending crystal? I may be able to amplify it, for a time.”

She nodded, setting it lightly in his hand.

Merrill stood up. “Can I see? Maybe I can help?”

He shook his head. “No, I’ve already finished. Nothing too complicated. But you can see it later if you’re still interested.”

Merrill nodded. “Yes, that would be... I would be so excited to study it. Thank you.”

Solas handed the crystal back to her. “You should just be able to think of Dorian and the enchantment should begin. We should all be able to listen, now, but you’re the only one who can start the spell.”

“What if he’s... inconvenienced?” Hawke interjected.

She shrugged. “That was the risk he decided to take when giving me a direct line of communication. Hopefully he’s not getting up to anything untoward this morning. More likely than not he’ll still be sleeping.”

She turned her thoughts to her friend, far away in Minrathous. She remembered the evenings where she had come to him for counsel, wondering whether any of the choices she was making were the right ones. He had taken her hands and given more than just advice. He had shared his own fears, of becoming his father, of the corruption in the homeland he loved, of the subjugation of the mages in the South. He told her of his growing feelings for one of their companions, unsure whether it was a fling or something more. He had been the first she had turned to when Solas had rejected her, that evening when he had removed her vallaslin. The first to her side when she began to realize that Solas didn’t go missing by mistake after Corypheus had been destroyed. He had become her friend, her ally, her confidant.

And she missed him terribly.

The crystal began to emanate a soft pink light from its position in the center of her palm, casting gentle shadows across the room.

“Hello? I thought I sensed someone thinking incredibly racy thoughts about me.”

“We can _all_ hear you, Dorian.” Varric rolled his eyes.

“What? I made this crystal with the express intent that only _you_ would hear me! How else would I be able to tell you how I missed the touch of your skin, the heat of your breath, the feel of your...”

A loud cough broke his reverie.

“Ah, that would be my dearest elven mage, then, unless I’ve forgotten the sound of that forced interjection? And I am guessing _you_ are the one to blame for interfering with my sending crystal.”

Solas shrugged, his voice maintaining the air of nonchalance. “It was bothersome. We have more important things to talk about than...”

“I would _love_ to hear what you’ve been up to! I’m guessing by your continued existence that our lovely Inquisitor has been treated well? I can’t imagine our compatriots would tolerate you otherwise.”

“Dorian!” she shouted, her face coloring. “Let’s speak on this later. We _do_ have business at hand.”

“Excellent. I will make sure that you do not forget that promise. You calling must mean that you were able to locate Hawke’s old friends? And who do you have with you, now?”

“The Seeker, Curly, Chuckles, Ruffles, and I are all here, nothing new about that. And then there’s Hawke, Fenris, and Merrill as well. I think you’ll like Merrill. Nobody likes Fenris.” Varric smiled towards Fenris.

“And I prefer it that way,” Fenris added, shaking his head, hiding his own half-smile. “At least I’m not a tasteless bore,” he added. His words were sharp, but the slight smile he cast towards Varric spoke of bemusement more than animosity.

“Perhaps we will get along better than you would admit, Fenris. I look forward to welcoming you all to Tevinter, the land of ancient wonders and highly suspect morality. So, will you be traveling to my esteemed city soon, then?”

“That’s the plan. We wanted to make you aware of our goals,” she said.

“So, what exactly _is_ the plan?”

She cleared her throat. “There are two objects of primary interest: first, there is the issue of whatever it is that the Venatori are seeking. Solas believes that it’s some ancient elven artifact that could both be powerful and dangerous. We will find it and deal with it and do so before the Venatori are able to unlock whatever it is.”

Dorian’s voice crackled. “And by ‘deal with it’ you do not mean allow your lover to burn the entire world down for the sake of magical experimentation or some such thing?”

The rest of the room looked at her, expectantly, but it was Solas who answered. “She does not. And I shall not.”

Varric looked at her. “What does he mean, Boss?”

“Solas...” she shifted uncomfortably.

“I allowed Corypheus to find a magical artifact that belonged to me, in an attempt to trick him into sacrificing himself to open it. Unfortunately, or possibly fortunately, he did not die. Corypheus used my focus to create the Breach. Now you are all up to speed.”

Varric’s mouth hung open.

“What the unholy _fuck are you talking about_?” Hawke said, rising to his feet.

“Did you tell them what you _intended to do_ if Corypheus was able to open the focus and _did_ happen to die in the process?” Dorian replied.

Solas sighed, shaking his head, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “This was not how I intended to tell you.”

Varric snorted. “And how did you _plan_ on telling us?”

“Truthfully? I hoped to avoid it.”

“That’s not going to cut it. Start speaking, Chuckles.” Varric stared at the other man, curiosity and anger both playing along his features.

“I planned on using the focus to destroy this world to return it to its state of approximately eight thousand years ago. Long before the fall of Arlathan.”

Cassandra turned to her. “Were you aware of this?”

She nodded, slowly. “I was aware, yes. When Solas returned, he told me everything. And he also changed his mind. He was from then—from Arlathan, I mean. He wasn’t truthful about his identity, or at least omitted the most crucial parts. He was what my people considered to be a god.”

Varric looked at her sternly. “And you believed him? About all of it? Most importantly, about not wanting to kill us anymore?”

She let out a heavy sigh. “I do believe him. More than anything.”

The group began chattering loudly, most of their words angry.

Fenris spoke then, clearing the noise from the room with his clear voice. “I believe her. And he’s telling the truth.”

Hawke raised his eyebrows. “What makes you so certain of this?”

Fenris shrugged. “He wouldn’t have told us, otherwise. I’ve known many liars in my time. Hell, I’ve been one. Neither of them is doing so right now. They’re stupidly in love with each other.” He motioned to the Inquisitor. “I’ve only known you for a short while, but I can’t image that you’d _let_ him destroy this world.” He then glanced at Solas. “And _you’re_ a damned fool for her. That’s why you didn’t manage to kill us all already. Because you wanted to save her. And you know that the only way you can save her _and_ keep her is to give up on that dream of yours. Not that you should have _ever_ wanted to bring back Elvhenan. You think that those old elves were any better than the slavers in Tevinter? I can _guarantee_ that they were no different. Power is power and the strong love to stomp on the throats of the weak.”

They heard a clap emanating from the crystal. “Bravo. I do believe I _will_ enjoy your company, Master Fenris. Make sure to bring this one with you.”

Solas still was looking at Fenris. “You are right, you know. They weren’t any better.”

Fenris shook his head. “They never are.”

Hawke chuckled lightly. “They were assholes, those ancient elven gods, but they were _your_ assholes, yes? But now _we’re_ your assholes and it’s all grown quite a bit more complicated.”

Solas shook his head. “It’s not at all complicated. I will work to save this world and lift my people back up from despair. And I hope to do so with your help.”

Dorian cleared his throat. “Okay! Now that everyone is on the same page... I believe you mentioned a second reason you are all traveling to Tevinter, did you not, Inquisitor?”

She nodded, eyes running across Fenris’s markings briefly before looking down at the crystal. “We plan to start a revolution.”

“Hmm... Interesting. I am certain my fellow magisters will relish the idea. And who precisely do you intend to bring into this rebellion?”

“Anyone who believes that Tevinter elite have too long profited off the backs of my people.”

He chuckled. “Do you forget, my dear, that I am one of those elite you seek to overthrow?’

“We began the arduous process of rooting out the corruption from the Orlesian Chantry, one of the most powerful organizations in Thedas. An endeavor you helped to succeed. The magisters need not fear us, unless they choose to oppose us. We shall destroy those who would wish to subjugate others and remake them, as we did with the Circles. The days of slavery in Thedas are numbered.”

“I should have known that you’d want to rip apart an entire civilization. Change is rarely bought without blood. It is a noble cause, and one I intend to support fully. I never would have thought myself to say such a thing, three years ago, but it seems that you have the unique ability to sway even me.”

“Thank you. I hope your faith is not misplaced,” she said softly.

“You have never disappointed me, Inquisitor. When should I prepare for your arrival?”

Solas answered for her. “We plan to set sail from Kirkwall at first light the day after next.”

She could almost hear Dorian nodding. “Ah, so if fortune favors you, you’ll reach us in a fortnight. Three weeks if it doesn’t.” He paused. “Wait, are you not speaking to me from Skyhold? I thought Varric mentioned that Josephine and Cullen were with you. You didn’t bring them with you across the country, did you?”

She shook her head, before remembering that he wasn’t there to see it. “No, we are in Skyhold.”

“Then how... Kirkwall is at least another week’s march from Skyhold. Longer if you’re traveling with Josephine’s standards.”

“We secured a working eluvian in the city. Thanks to our new companions.” Solas answered. She could hear the pride in his voice. Glancing over at Merrill, she saw the woman flush ever so slightly.

_Oh dear, at this rate she’s going to fall in love with him, too._

“Well, that is fortunate indeed. I will begin cleaning out my guest rooms. It’s not often that I’ve an entire party coming to visit me in my humble manor. I look forward to staring upon that glorious face of yours, Inquisitor.”

She smiled, glancing sideways at Solas. “Likewise. Sule tael tasalal.”

“There you go doing that again. It’s good that we’ve got miles and an ocean between us, otherwise I would find myself unable to keep my hands from you. _Sule, fenorain.”_

Her hand went to her cheek, a smile blooming across her face. “ _You’ve learned elvish?”_

“Ah, so my pronunciation wasn’t absolutely abhorrent? I’ve picked up bits and pieces. Thought that you would appreciate it and I _obviously_ live to please you.”

She saw Solas was smiling as well, despite Dorian’s overt flirting. “We can work on it. In Minrathous. The pronunciation, that is,” he replied.

She returned Solas’s smile. _Confident enough to not worry about my friendship with Dorian becoming more than that. That, or he’s aware of the magister’s preferences._ Either way, she loved him for it. The trust was appreciated.

“Goodbye, my friend,” she said, wishing that there was more time and fewer ears listening, her cheeks already reddening.

“We will meet again, soon.”

The crystal blinked and darkened.

Solas turned to Fenris. “Thank you for defending me. I am not sure what I did to deserve your trust.”

Fenris shook his head. “Oh, I did not mean to give you the impression that I _trust_ you. I just don’t think you’re lying about wanting to help. I have no illusions that without her, you would grind us all to dust to suit your wishes.” He turned to her. “Don’t die, Inquisitor.”

He shook his head. “You may have the truth of it, though it means nothing personal. Though I have grown attached to this world and not just for our Inquisitor.”

Hawke was still standing when he spoke. “Nothing personal? ‘Oh, I just mean to kill you all and bathe your world in blood, but it’s _nothing personal_.’”

Fenris held his hand up. “Enough, Hawke. There isn’t a single soul in this room who hasn’t done something that they haven’t deeply regretted. Need I remind you that the expedition you made into the Deep Roads made you _incredibly_ wealthy and probably helped cause the Knight-Commander to go on a killing spree? An event that _probably_ led our dear friend to destroy a chantry and start a rebellion? Let’s not dredge up the past. We have enough shit to wade through without piling that on as well.”

Hawke colored, sitting back down. Varric rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder. She suspected that, should she wish to find the two men that evening, they would be in the Herald’s Rest, dredging up the past.

Her companions nodded at her, off to make preparations for their departure. Josephine was pulling together contacts who might be amenable to their cause in Minrathous. Cullen would be preparing the army. And Cassandra would be writing to Leliana. The others filed out in turn, leaving her alone with Fenris.

“I saw you looking at my markings. I did not tell you how I came to get them, but you seemed to know.”

She shook her head, motioning to his scars. “It did not seem that one would do that to himself. You mentioned that you bought freedom for your mother and sister. I wondered if that had been the price. You had been hunting down slavers when we found you.” She met his eyes, as if trying to will her compassion into him. To let him feel that he was not alone, whatever he had been before. “Besides, Varric told me a bit of your past.”

He nodded, turning away from her. “That is correct. I was branded with lyrium. It gives me some access to the Fade. They turned me into a monster. A weapon.”

She reached to brush his skin, where the brand swirled against his arm. He turned when she was but a hair’s breadth away. “Do they pain you?”

He nodded. “I have grown used to it.”

She sighed, wishing she could comfort him. He seemed to need it. “If you like, I could ask Solas if he knows how to remove them. If they cause you pain, it could lessen your discomfort.”

He shook his head, meeting her eyes. “I understand why you would suggest it, but these markings are as much a part of me as any other now. I would not know what to do without them. I appreciate the sentiment, however. And your mission. You will have my unwavering support.”

“I am glad for it.”

He sighed, turning to leave.

“Fenris, wait,” she said, unthinkingly.

She was surprised when he obeyed, turning to face her.

“Do not give up on Hawke. Please. He loves you still. And despite your feigned indifference, I know that you still feel for him as well.”

He smiled sadly. “I do not wish to linger over things that cannot be.”

She took his arm then, and he did not shy away, though she saw from his grimace that it pained him. “I know a thing or two about overcoming the seemingly impossible. We are not always good judges of what can and cannot be.”

He placed his other hand on top of hers, in a surprising gesture of familiarity. “Thank you, Inquisitor. I will think on your words.”

She nodded and she found herself alone once again.

\--

As the sun began to sink below the peaks of the Frostback Mountains, the Inquisitor was penning a letter to her former Keeper and the clan she had left behind. She had wrapped a light blanket around her shoulders to keep out the worst of the autumn chill. Huddled at her desk, legs crossed, she tried to muster the appropriate words. She had already discarded three letters that just hadn’t seemed quite right. She started again, a fresh sheet of parchment in hand.

_Keeper Deshanna,_

_As I write, the winter chill is just beginning to rear its head in the Frostbacks. Skyhold is beautiful in winter, covered in snow, sparkling snowflakes coating everything in sight. I wish you could see it here. I know that the Marches have their own charm, but I am growing to love Ferelden as well._

_I am writing to you from love, but also to press a favor. I would like to arrange for myself and several of my companions to attend Arlathvhen. I would like to have the opportunity to address all of the Keepers in person, as myself. Not as the Inquisitor or a representative of the Chantry. The Dalish fear me, but they must not. We wish to conduct important business that would benefit greatly from their participation. A word from you would go farther than any attempts I could make at securing my own invitation._

_Our people will always be welcome at Skyhold. I have made a home here—and I know how your face would stiffen at the idea—a Lavellan in a permanent home? I know, it sounds ridiculous. Home is the clan, the halla, the aravel. Not some brick, stone, or wood. Skyhold is not just that. It never has been. It is an idea of a thing—a place devoid of fear. Somewhere where anyone can find kinship. I know you may not approve, but if you find yourself in Ferelden, I would welcome you into our home._

_I know my future was not the one that you intended, but I hope that you can still find pride in my endeavors._

_Dareth shiral,_

_Inquisitor Lavellan_

She heard a gentle knock at her door, just as she began pouring the wax to seal the envelope. She pressed her stamp—a flaming sword with an open eye—onto the molten seal. The black mark stood in sharp contrast to the clean white parchment. She set it aside to cool before standing and stepping towards the door.

Solas stood before her, holding something behind his back.

“You need not knock, my love. I believe we are quite past such displays of decorum.”

He kissed her, the door still open. She pulled him inside by his tunic, wrapping her arm around his neck and returning his kiss eagerly. He managed to close the door, probably with a foot. Where their bodies touched, she felt as though her skin burned.

“Even so, I would like to maintain the appearance of courting you properly. For my own sake, if not for yours.”

_So, we’re courting now? I wonder what that means to him._

She felt the ara’lin’hasal lightly against her skin.

_Oh._

She tried to step behind him, to see what he was trying to poorly conceal this time. He held up a hand towards her, stopping her.

“Another gift, Solas? And I’ve given you nothing. You’re going to make me feel guilty.”

He smiled, kissing her nose. “That is where we disagree. You’ve given me everything, vhenan.” He said the last word breathlessly, as though the word itself had pushed him over the edge.

“Can I see it, or will you just keep standing there trying to hide from me?”

He chuckled, lightly. “If I am honest, it is more of a gift for myself. I’d like nothing more than to see you in it.”

Her hand gripper her tunic, ready to pull it off.

“No, vhenan. I would not ask you to strip in front of me.” He stared at her, a sly smile curling his lips pleasantly. “Not yet, in any case.”

She rolled her eyes. “It is nothing you haven’t already seen. What benefit would waiting allow you?”

He stepped closer to her, moving to whisper in her ear. “I want to savor you. Postponing my desire will only serve to strengthen it.”

His voice sent a shiver down her body. She had to remind herself to breathe again.

She went to stand behind her changing screen, peering over the side at him. The screen was just sheer enough that she could make out his silhouette from the other side. She knew that he could see her shadow as well. She hoped that he found it as tantalizing as she did.

“How much should I take off?”

He cleared his throat, clearly distracted. “Custom would decree, everything. It is not a garment typically worn with any underclothes.”

She glanced at him curiously, but followed his instructions. She saw him move towards the screen, gently folding something over the top. She took it in her hand.

If moonlight could be spun into thread, the entire dress was made of it.

The gown was silver, of the finest silk she had ever touched. Even the clothing she wore to Halamshiral were like roughspun compared to this fabric. She pulled it over her head. It was so light, it felt as though she was still naked.

The cut was incredibly low, plunging nearly to her belly button, exposing the gentle curve of her breasts. Wearing nothing underneath, her nipples were clearly visible, hardened from the chill, under the sheer fabric. The cloth clung perfectly to her skin, flowing in the legs and at the shoulders, but pulling tight against her curves. She had worn tight clothing before, but this felt different. It fit her _perfectly_. Instead of pressing against her body, it simply felt as though she had grown a second skin. She wondered at how he had guessed her measurements—perhaps he had asked Josephine. She felt like a goddess.

“Close your eyes,” she said, trying to hide her excitement. It was not often that she dressed in a manner that made her seem anything other than the head of the Inquisition, one of the most influential organizations in Thedas. It was not often she felt so feminine, probably fewer than five times in her entire life.

She stepped from behind the screen, train flowing behind her, catching the wind. She stood before him, kissing him heartily. As soon as their lips parted, his eyes opened.

And he nearly gasped.

“I... Vhenan, I have never...” His hand went to his chest. “I have never seen anyone, _anything_ in this world or any other that could approach your beauty.”

“So, you are pleased with your gift? To yourself?”

“Wonderfully so.” His eyes were appraising her, taking in every inch of her. She reveled in the attention.

“Where did you find something like this?”

“The gown was made in the Elvhen fashion. You would have blended in perfectly in any party in Arlathan. Actually, you would have turned heads even there. But you would not have been out of place. I made sketches, from memory, with slight modifications. I asked Josephine to have the gown made before we left for Kirkwall. She had to send to Antiva for the cloth, I believe. I did not think it would be done so quickly.”

“It is truly a masterpiece. I am ever grateful.” She smiled, kissing him again. “Do I remind you of your ancient elven lovers?”

He laughed. “I did not take you for a jealous type. You _far_ surpass them. You have ruined me for any other woman.”

She turned her head to the side slightly, a half smile on her face. “And I’m sure you’ve never used that exact line on every other woman you’ve romanced?”

“Perhaps not. But I mean it, this time. I fear I’ve made a grave mistake, however.”

"How so?”

“I thought I wanted nothing more than to see you in it. Now I realized that I want nothing more than to tear it from you.”

“That would be a terrible waste of such a lovely gift. Josephine would be so disappointed.”

“Even so...” He ran his hand against the thin cloth on her shoulder. She could feel his touch easily through the fabric. She took it in hers.

“Allow me.”

She slid the gown off her shoulders, letting it cascade to the floor and collect in a shimmering pool. What little it had hidden was now revealed in full, moonlight glinting off of her pale skin.

“Did you happen to solve our little problem?” she asked, desire glinting in her eyes.

He nodded, caressing the skin at her collarbone. “I made it my top priority.”

She extended her hand, bidding him to come closer. “Then shall we begin?”

He did not need to speak to convey his want. She slid off his cloak, dropping it to the floor along with her gown. His tunic was harder one-handed, but she managed to pull it over his head, her fingers tracing the line where it had touched his neck just a moment before.

He pulled her close, his skin warm and flushed against her own. Their lips met, before hers made their way around his neck and across to his chest. She pushed him against her desk and he hurriedly shoved her papers, including her letter to her Keeper, to the side.

_Gods forgive me if I end up fucking him right on top of it._

He moved to pull her on top of him, but she held her arm out, blocking the maneuver.

“Not this time. I would please you first,” she said breathlessly.

He did not lodge a complaint.

She kissed him again, softly at first. She stood above him while he was seated and had to bend over slightly to meet his lips. He sighed beneath her, wrapping his arms around her back. Her kisses increased their ferocity, her tongue making contact with his mouth, begging to be invited in. She did not need to wait long.

Her heart began to race as she pulled away from his kisses, tracing the outline of his collarbone with her tongue. The pale, nearly imperceptible hairs on his chest rose from her touch. He leaned back, his arms bracing against the desk as she made her way slowly downwards.

His stomach tensed at her touch, pulling away from her ever so slightly. She slid her fingers in between his trousers and the skin beneath and he shuddered.

She bent to untie his laces. If his shirt was a challenge, removing his breeches was nearly impossible. Thankfully, he took pity on her—either that or lost patience—and assisted with the rest of them. She smiled, grateful, and slid them off.

_I keep thinking that the more I see of him, the greater the chances are for disappointment. I’m glad to see that sentiment was completely... Wrong._

_Breathe. Yes. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe._

She found herself again, kisses trailing from his belly button, down. Her hands traced runes in elvish on his skin. Fire. Ice. He moaned and she pushed up, catching the sound against his mouth.

“Stop,” he said. “stop teasing me, vhenan.”

“I have absolutely no idea of what you’re speaking,” she replied, grinning wickedly.

She pulled him back to his feet.

And then she was on her knees, her soft flesh scratching against the hard stone.

With no preamble, she took him fully in her mouth. It was met with an incredible groan that made her own body shake. The sound of him was enough to make her want to take him immediately. But she had work to do.

“Vhenan...”

She pulled away immediately and moved to kiss him.

“You can’t just...”

“Did you not say that making you wait would make you want me more?”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

She laughed. “The damage has been done.” She turned from him, striding to the bed. He looked after her, concerned.

She grabbed a pillow.

She shrugged. “For my knees.”

He smiled, gesturing for her to resume her spot on the floor before him.

“Gladly.”

She placed the cushion between her legs and the stone, grateful for the distance. She kissed his inner thighs, her fingers gripping the outside of his legs. He shivered with each touch, his body begging her to go further.

Her kisses were gentle, tickling his skin, closing in. Right where he wanted her. And she obliged, eventually, her tongue flicking against his erection. He sighed audibly. She took him in her hand, holding him in place. She could feel his tension, his desire for her, right under her fingertips. Her mouth kissed along his length, teasing, testing.

When she finally took him in her mouth again, he was nearly convulsing. Her pace was slow, initially. His hand found the back of her head, but instead of pushing it, he tapped a gentle rhythm out. He did not want to force anything upon her, just making a light suggestion. She decided she would oblige, but not yet.

He was going to accept her terms for the time being.

She looked up at him, seeing that he was watching her. The sight of her must have been too much—he tilted his head backwards, closing his eyes.

And then she decided that she may as well listen to him. She took his pace as her own and he ran his hands through her hair, somehow managing to pull the braids that had been bound at the top of her head. Her hair fell in thick tendrils along her back, slapping her satisfyingly has she moved. He pulled even those apart, her hair completely free and descending down her back. A bead of sweat dripped between her breasts, despite the chill.

He pushed her head back off of him and pulled her to her feet. He guided her onto the desk, knocking all of the unfortunate things that had remained onto the floor. She lay on her back, him on top of her, kissing her.

_I wonder what he thinks of the taste._

If his opinion was indeed negative, it wasn’t enough to deter him. She felt his legs pressing against her thighs, could feel his arousal against her pelvis. It made her want to scream, beg him to take her right then. Somehow, she managed restraint. Barely.

His fingers made his way inside of her, finding her already dripping without the slightest intervention. If he was surprised, he made no note of it. He paused, taking the pillow from the floor and gingerly placing it under her head. He was on his knees then, but did not seem to mind the surface. Either that or he cared more for her comfort than his own.

_I love him. Damn it, I love him. I’m a fool for him._

She had little time to think as his pace quickened and all other thoughts were pushed aside like the trappings on her desk. She moaned, shivering against his hand. She felt hot, heavy.

“Solas?”

“Mm?”

“Take me.”

He looked at her, wiping his hand on his chest before placing his fingers in his mouth.

“Are you sure, vhenan? I want you to be sure.”

_Would he... stop... if I said no? He must, or he wouldn’t have asked._

His desire was written plainly on his face, the mask he usually wore completely removed for the time being. But underneath, a tenderness was still there. Driving everything.

_Yes, he would._

“Always the gentleman. Lasa ar’an alas’nira aron fen’en, vhenan. Take me, damn you.”

He nodded, clearly pleased with the outcome.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

“I know.”

He stood. Finally, blissfully, he entered her. She groaned, twisting against him. She was powerless before him and had almost no leverage. Entirely at his mercy.

_Let him have control. For now._

His pace was entirely too slow for her liking. She assumed it was for her, not for him. He was afraid to hurt her, perhaps. She needed to show him how absolutely unnecessary that was.

She pushed him, gently. He rolled off the desk, landing lightly on his feet.

_Why is he so graceful? I would have made myself a fool then._

She took his hand, leading him to her chair. He sat, obediently. And she did as well, taking him in again as she descended. She watched him as she thrust him deeper, his eyes rolling back and his mouth curling up into a small smile. His hands held her in place, which she was grateful for. She interspersed short thrusts with long, leaving him gasping. She was rougher than he had been, her pace far more frantic.

She kissed him, caressing his ear as she grinded against him. The pressure was building pleasantly and she shifted slightly, to press her clitoris against his skin. Her eyes closed and she held her head against his chest, riding against him. He was breathing heavily, sweating as though they were in midsummer.

“Vhenan...”

“I want to feel your pleasure inside of me,” she whispered.

He gasped and she felt the release. His hands clutched her tightly. He shook as he spilled inside her. She thrust again, once, twice, thrice, until his shaking stopped. He leaned back, head resting on the chair. She pulled off of him, his seed trickling down her thighs.

She allowed him a moment to recover, before sitting on him again, sideways. Her hand behind his head, she pressed him into a kiss, deeply, as though they would never have another chance.

His entire body was flushed, his cheeks most of all. “It has been so long, vhenan. I am sorry I did not last longer. You... You were amazing.”

She laughed, unbelieving. “Did you think I would be unhappy with that? Always so concerned for my feelings... I loved it, Solas. I would do it again. In a heartbeat.” She glanced at him, smiling. “Well, perhaps more than _one_ heartbeat.”

“That was better than I could have imagined. You were. In the flesh... You are so wonderful.” He laughed, kissing her. “Did you know that I have, in my life, done so little for myself? So few things I did because I simply _wanted_ to. Until I met you, and you made me change.”

She returned his smile. “I believe you changed yourself.”

“You give me too much credit. I was powerless against your will, vhenan. I don’t think there’s a soul alive who could manage to defy you.”

“What you said, though, you meant that...”

“I only slept with other women for three things: power, favor, or information. You I was with out of love. It changes everything.”

“This reminds me of a conversation we had once. With Warden Blackwall.”

“Oh?” He cocked his head, curiously.

“Yes, actually. He had asked you if you’d ever had sex with a spirit. A question you thoroughly avoided answering, yet answered all the same.”

He laughed, rolling his eyes. “Not this nonsense again.”

She raised your eyebrows, tapping him on the nose. “Don’t lie to me. I know you have. You wouldn’t be so red otherwise.”

“Excuse me? We just... I can be as red as I want. You do not need to read into it.”

“What was it like?”

“What was _what_ like?”

“Having sex with a spirit. Demon. Whatever.”

“Ugh, you really won’t let it drop?”

She shook her head.

“Well, since you asked.” He paused. “You needn’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?” she said, eyes wide and innocent.

“Like you’re a child listening to a story.”

She frowned, trying to feign seriousness. It must have worked somewhat, because he continued.

“When we first met, I was immediately taken with you. Mind you, I had spent days by your side, studying the anchor and trying to save your life. You were beautiful, sleeping.” He coughed. “Sorry, that sounds wrong. I must remind you that you asked for this.”

She waved her hand, motioning him to continue.

“I was mad for you. And when you woke it was worse. You were _reasonable_. You were _interested_. You were _inquisitive_. I had never met anyone like that since I had awoken.

“I sought... comfort. I happened upon a desire demon in the Fade one night. She took your form and slaked my desire. It was necessary.”

She looked at him sideways, nearly bursting into laugher. “You conjured a fake version of me in the Fade to have sex with? So this isn’t _truly_ our first time.”

He looked at her sternly. “Do not misunderstand. The shade is nowhere as good as the real thing. I was desperate to continue with my mission. That would not have been possible if I spent every waking moment pining over you. Which I still did, to a large part, despite my attempts at intervention.”

“How many times have you had sex with a version me in the Fade?”

He shook his head. “After the first few times, they all blended together.”

She could not hold in her laughter anymore. “Maybe I should try it sometime. We could have a foursome.”

“I don’t see the benefit...”

“Then you don’t have enough of an imagination.”

He rolled his eyes. “I still haven’t pleasured you fully this evening. Would you like me to?”

“Are you trying to change the subject?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Then by all means.”

He kissed her forehead, leading her back to the bed, keeping his word.

\--

Their limbs were hopelessly tangled, sheets tossed aside as though a whirlwind had ripped through the room. Her neck ached slightly from holding it sideways against his bare chest all through the night. His arms still encircled her loosely, all his strength from the previous night sapped from his body. He slept still, breathing slowly.

_I wonder if he dreamt of me or if he entered the Fade. I do not believe that I dreamt at all—too tired. I hope he did not try to wait for me there._

She threaded her right leg out from under his, rolling on her side to stretch her muscles. He stirred.

_Well, that was probably unavoidable._

“She stirs, slumber forgotten in the morning glow,” he said softly, pushing upwards against the bed so that he was above her.

“You were the one sleeping just now, not me,” she said, giggling as she planted a kiss on his nose before jerking him back down against her.

He grunted softly, in surprise at her sudden movement. “How do you feel?” he asked, brushing his fingers through her tangled hair.

_That’s going to be a mess to brush out, if I ever work up the desire to leave this bed again._

“Overwhelmingly, blissfully, and indescribably overjoyed. I love you, Solas. You know that, right?”

He smiled, chuckling. “I had that distinct impression. And I reciprocate the feeling. Most ardently.” He kissed her gently, his lips curled into a smile.

“What are your plans for today?”

“Oh, are we already on to that? I thought we could spend a little more time together this morning.” His hands ran over her bare shoulder and she longed for him.

_No... Not now._

“We can, just let me put on something first.” She got up to change, moving from the bed.

“Is that strictly necessary?” He took her hand, pulling her back on top of him. She could feel his desire for her, hard between his legs.

“Come along, then. Sex is not the only thing I want from you. We had a deal, remember? In return for my forgiveness, you would teach me everything you know. I intend to collect.”

He sat up slightly, leaning his chin on his fist, arm bent. “Oh? And what would you like to learn?”

She turned her head to the side, considering. “Magic. All of it.”

He laughed. “All of it?”

She nodded.

He peered into her eyes, as though he would plunge into their depths. “Well then, I suppose we truly _don’t_ have time for a repeat of last night then.” He paused, considering. “Let’s start with something simple and practical. I’d like you to create a barrier.”

She frowned, eyebrows raised. “I rather hoped you would teach me to shoot lightning from my palms.”

He shook his head, laughing. “I would feel better knowing that you can protect yourself. We are leaving relative safety quite soon and I would like to not worry after you constantly.”

She started, her voice rising. “You _know_ I can protect myself! I have been doing so for years. And before I met you, I might add.”

He shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. I know that you are perfectly capable of fending off physical assaults. We are going to _Tevinter_. Magic is practiced freely and assassinations are commonplace. I need to know that even if we are separated, you can set your own barriers. I would not forgive myself knowing that I could have protected you and failed to.”

She sighed. “Alright. I suppose you have the truth of it. It would be beneficial to know.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you agree. We will start with a physical barrier. Now, I’d like you to try and keep me off of you. Feel the wall between us and give it the suggestion to manifest itself.”

She looked confused. “What? You want me to talk to empty space?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I am trying to describe the feeling required. You need to believe that there is a separation between us—that the barrier exists. And then will it into this world. The suggestion should be enough to shape it.”

She closed her eyes, trying to channel the power. She reached for it, deep within her body. She opened her eyes, looking at him and trying to force the separation to exist. There was a slight shimmering of light. He pressed his hand against it, lightly, pausing where she had tried to place the barrier. Then he swung his arms around, shattering the spell, and wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her deeply, leaving her gasping.

“A valiant effort, but I was easily able to push through it. Try again.”

“Wait, Solas, I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Say that you placed a barrier. Theoretically, if I wanted to, would I be able to shatter it like you just did?” She thought of her dream, the woman standing before him, sending corruption into his veins.

“Hmm... Yes, you would, in theory. If mages could not dispel each other’s barriers, you would never have an instance of them managing to kill each other. You would need an _incredibly_ strong will to break one of my barriers, however. I am not sure it would be possible for you, in truth. I have been casting them for years. You’re just coming into your powers. Why do you ask?”

“Just curiosity,” she lied.

“Keep your secrets, then,” he said, not unkindly. He bent down to hand her his discarded tunic, which she pulled over her head. He pulled on his trousers.

She looked at him, curiously.

“I thought it might be more challenging for you to create a barrier if we remained unclothed.”

She laughed. “You’re not wrong, there.”

“Let us try again, vhenan. Try not to lose focus this time. You need to continuously imbue it with power, otherwise I will be able to easily overcome anything you manage to toss up.”

“And what if I _want_ you to overcome it?” she added, a wicked smile flashing across her lips.

“That’s another matter entirely. Still, let’s save that for later. As much as it pains me. I would have you practice, as you were the one who asked. If you’ll remember, I was perfectly content staying in bed.”

“Fine,” she said, squinting her eyes and trying to focus. _Do not let him touch you. Will the air solid. Breathe, allow it to take its form, rippling with his motion. Not too stiff, or it might shatter. Not too weak, or it will not keep him away._

Inhaling, she closed her eyes again. She held her breath, trying to sense the air before her. The power began to flow from her skin, slowly, steadily. _Not too quickly or you’ll expend yourself. Not too slowly or the density will be wrong._ She exhaled, the magic snapping into place before her. She opened her eyes. Nothing seemed to be between them, but she could feel it this time. Stronger, harder.

He moved his hand towards her, but stopped just short of the skin on her face. He tapped on the solid barrier with his finger, moving to pierce it. His hands encircled her, but they were not able to break through. She had surrounded herself completely.

He raised a hand, palm upward. He flicked his wrist, closing the hand as though catching something invisible. She felt the barrier dissipate.

“Good. Your physical barrier was fairly well-made. I think it should have defected most blunt blows—though possibly could have been pierced by something at high velocity, like a crossbow bolt. You should continue practicing, but I believe you have understood the feel for it.”

“Can I throw lightning now? Or maybe a fireball?”

He shook his head, laughing. “So impatient with the destructive magic. They don’t need to be used as weapons. I use fire magic to make tea more than I use it to injure.”

“Could you teach me to heal injuries?”

“Hmm, I believe there are others more suited to that endeavor. Merrill in particular seems skilled at it. That was never my strength. I was a weapon, not a healer. We should ask her. Perhaps she would also have ideas on how to fix your arm.”

She held up her damaged limb, tenderly. “I have begun to get used to it. It would be strange to have it back now. But I suppose it would have its uses. That _was_ my sword arm. I’d imagine I’m pretty useless in a fight now.”

“Yes, all the more reason to inquire after her assistance. Let’s speak to her on it before we arrive in Tevinter.”

She nodded. “Thank you. For showing me.”

He smiled, standing a bit taller. “Thank you for caring to learn. Not many would be.”

She stood on her toes to kiss him. “I am not like _many_ people.”

He held her, his arms tight against her back, pushing his overly large shirt even closer against her skin. It was not exactly smooth, but not unpleasant. “No, vhenan. Indeed, you are not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Travels are going quite well, but I managed to snag a few minutes this morning to edit and post another chapter. I haven't been writing a whole lot on vacation, but I've done a fair bit of outlining and look forward to getting back to it soon!
> 
> If you're hungry for more in the meantime, you can check out the new works I've posted in this series called "Ink and Lyrium" (Cullen & Josie) and "Deception Unraveling" (Solas Crestwood POV). They're both rather short currently, but something fun and different to look at!
> 
> Also, check out enigmalea’s lovely WIP [Moonstone and Amethyst](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19280314/chapters/45853525) if you find the idea of Solas having Fade sex intriguing. I’m not saying it’s there, but also not saying it’s not. ;)
> 
> Sule tael tasalal.  
> \--  
> Elvish translation:  
> Sule tael tasalal: until we meet again  
> Lasa ar’an alas’nira aron fen’en, vhenan: Let us dance as the wolves do, love.


	11. Into the Imperium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And as promised, we finally arrive in Tevinter.

Their travels across the Amaranthine Ocean were smooth, lasting less than the predicted fortnight. Josephine and Hawke managed to acquire them passage on a clipper named the Orleasian Wind. She had originally thought it was named for the speed of the boat, but the captain quickly corrected her.

“I spent the better part of a year courting a woman from Orlais. She was so beautiful I had half a mind to marry her. When I finally took her, she let out such a massive fart that I couldn’t keep going for the laughter.”

Varric had roared at that and even Fenris managed a pained smile. She was more interested in the outcome of their courtship.

“And whatever happened to the poor woman?”

“Oh,” he said, salt spray coating his black bristled beard. “She slapped me so hard I nearly forgot my name. Bought a boat out of Val Royeaux the very next day. Haven’t been back since.”

Solas caught her eyes from where he stood behind the captain and rolled his, his eyebrows raised. He mouthed the word “children” and she found herself stifling a giggle, her hand reaching to cover her mouth.

“Oooooooh! I think I see something! For real, this time!” They heard a lilted voice call out from the crow’s nest. Merrill had spent most of the journey up there when the weather was agreeable. The first time she climbed up, the captain called after her, begging her to come down. When she decided to jump from halfway up the rope, landing gracefully on her feet, he decided to not press the issue.

They looked at where Merrill was pointing, somewhere off into the West judging by the sun’s position. It was past midday. At night she could never tell where they were going, but when the sun was out, even she could figure it out given a moment.

The captain laughed, beaming. “Well, are you sure you want to take her with you? She’d make a mighty fine lookout! I do believe we’re nearing Minrathous this time. You’d better be off to gather your things. We should hit port in a few hours. And you lot have an ungodly amount of stuff.”

“Yes, we will be keeping Merrill. Though I’m sure she would be an excellent sailor.” Hawke replied, looking up at his friend. She was clambering down the rope, looking glass slung across her waist.

“Are we in Tevinter yet?”

She nodded. “You called it this time, Merrill. We’re nearly there.”

Merrill smiled. “Truly? I know I’ve given a few false alarms, but even I can hardly believe that we’re finally going to arrive! I’ve never been to Tevinter... Well, actually, I haven’t been much outside of the Marches, before meeting up with you all. Roaming around with the clan and all that, but cities... Nothing until Kirkwall. And Tevinter will be so different! Mages running about, not having to fear persecution? I can’t wait! There will be so much to learn.”

Fenris shook his head, sighing. “At least one of us is excited about the prospect.”

Hawke placed his hand on his shoulder. Fenris nearly moved to push him off, but seemed to decide against it at the last moment. “Don’t worry, Fenris. I can protect you.”

Fenris turned to him as if he had been struck. “Uh...”

A smile lit up Hawke’s face, exposing his exquisitely pearlescent teeth. “No need to thank me. Your reaction is reward enough.” He removed his hand from Fenris’s shoulder and walked towards the cabins.

Fenris looked at her, clearly still stunned.

She shrugged and cocked her head in the direction that Hawke had just walked in, suggesting that the man follow him. To her surprise, he did.

Varric smiled. “Well, hopefully they stop fighting soon. It’s getting rather old, if I’m being completely honest,” he said, as soon as Fenris was out of sight. “And all Hawke did was run away. Not that it was a _good idea_ , but other people I know have recovered from worse.”

“Try not to judge them so harshly. Reconciliation is hard,” she said, looking after them.

“Especially when both parties involved are about as stubborn as...” He considered. “Never mind. I should go gather up my belongings as well. I’ll leave you all to it then.”

She turned to Merrill. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Merrill. A favor, really.”

Merrill smiled. “I will do what I can to help. What is it you would ask of me?”

She held up her right arm, cut off above the elbow, for Merrill to examine. “I was speaking with Solas and he believed that you may be able to fix this.”

“Your arm? What is wrong with it?”

“Um...” she started. “It’s kind of missing.”

Merrill laughed. “Oh, I can see that! I am not quite _that_ dense. What happened to it, though? It doesn’t seem scarred—the wound is smooth if I’m not mistaken.”

Solas sighed. “I did. I had to remove the arm to save her. She had come in possession of a magical anchor that was not meant for her. It would have killed her had I not removed it.”

Merrill held her arm gently, turning it over in her hands. Her fingers were deft and calloused. Her skill was apparent by the way she touched her arm, feeling for nerves and musculature. “Hmm... I am not used to treating amputees, but it certainly can be done. I would need help though.”

Solas looked at her, curiously. “What kind of help?”

The elven woman took a deep breath. “Well, knitting together wounds is easy. The body wants to pull itself back together. Creating something that is not there any longer—bidding it to grow in the correct way—that is quite challenging. Not impossible, of course! I do not mean to say that. I would need someone to help me channel the magic properly, someone who would have known the shape of your arm well enough to guide it.”

Solas nodded. “I see. It should be simple enough for me to do.”

She looked at him. “Solas, you wouldn’t be as familiar as I would be. Would it not make more sense for me to help Merrill with my own arm?”

The other woman shook her head. “I’m afraid there may be a great deal of pain. I would not want to rely on you to hold the enchantment, in case you were unable to focus. Besides, it would be easier if it were someone comfortable with magic. I know you’ve been learning, but...”

She nodded. “Yes. You’re right, of course.”

Solas smirked at her, chuckling. “Do not worry. I will not give you any strange scars. At least not any that weren’t already there.”

“You had best hope not.”

He turned to Merrill. “I should suffice as a channel. I’ve painted her too many times to count. I know exactly what she looks like.”

“Really? You’re a painter? I would not expect that from you.”

He tilted his head slightly. “It is not as surprising as you might think. Art is not so different from magic. Both involve creating something out of the most basic ingredients, shaping them and willing them to take a new form.”

He had an unearthly beauty about him then, his cloak billowing from the wind, surf at his back. He practically glowed whenever he spoke of magic. His smile had subtly taken over his face, softening his features. She wanted to melt into him. Or sketch him. She tried to take a mental picture to draw later.

_I wonder... Would he pose for me...?_

She shoved the thought away, reddening.

“What is the matter, vhenan?”

She replied, softly. “I was just thinking of what it meant that you had spent so much time painting me.”

“We were apart for two years. And before that, there were times where I wanted you more than I could express in words. So, I painted you.”

Merrill looked from each of them to the other. “Um... I think I will take my leave, now. I can look into the proper way to heal your arm. And then, we can talk about it... Later. I think.”

Solas nodded, but his eyes did not stray from hers.

She sighed.

_We can’t land soon enough. The cabins are too close together. Soon, my love, I will have you again._

As though he heard her thoughts, he kissed her forehead, whispering in her ear. “As much as I have enjoyed the salty air, I am ready for thick stone walls to be between us and our companions again.”

She shuddered before moving to the cabins to contact Dorian and pack their things.

\--

The Port of Minrathous was massive, holding more ships than she had ever seen in one location at once. The city was blanketed in a golden glow from the setting sun, but the buildings themselves seemed to be gilded as well. The reflection of the edifices across the water made the city seem twice as large as it was in reality. And Minrathous was incredibly large already—the largest city in Thedas, she thought.

Over the peaks of the columns and archways, she could make out a great dome towering above all else. At its apex, a thin spire projected into the heavens. If she squinted, she could make out the great dragon entwined around the peak of the structure, breathing stone fire into the air.

There were travelers and merchants milling about the port, but they were not the individuals who caught her eye. The denizens of Minrathous stood out against the common people, cloaked in black and gold silks. Every person who did not seem to clearly be working was wearing the same colors. They moved in a sea, undulating and reforming to allow for carts to pass between them. It was eerie to see an entire populace dressed in the same shades.

A single man had chosen to wear silver, which shone against the ocean of sameness, breaking the illusion. He sat atop a statue of a sleeping dragon, resting his head against the reptile’s lounging neck. Shocks of red embellished his outfit, though she could not make out the pattern from the distance. There could only be one person in the entire city who would so casually discard the current fashion.

They approached Dorian. She wanted to call out to him, but knew that he’d likely want them to enter the city more discreetly. Armed guards stood at the gate to the city, forming a physical barrier preventing anyone from crossing who did not have the proper paperwork. It seemed that dealings in Minrathous, with its diffuse governance, would be a bureaucratic feat. Luckily, she liked to believe that the Inquisition possessed the finest bureaucrat in Thedas. Josephine had worked with Dorian to discreetly secure their entry into the city under false names, to avoid suspicion. Dorian had not been their _actual_ sponsor, as he was known to have ties to the Inquisition. They instead secured passage through a different magister, who owed a small fortune to the Merchant’s Guild from a shipping expedition going awry. His silence was bought and the debt was forgiven. Easy as that. Varric saw to it personally.

_If the Venatori are made aware of the Inquisition’s presence, they would scurry away back into their holes. We need to smoke them out, to make contacts here._

The lounging man in silver appeared to be resting, but she knew he was likely acutely aware of his surroundings. She wanted to move towards him quickly, to grab him into an embrace. It had been far too long since she’d seen her friend. Her haste caused her to run into a tall man in front of her, dressed in the midnight black and gold that was so popular among his compatriots.

He man turned immediately, his face reddening and eyes widening as soon as his eyes met hers.

She opened her mouth to apologize for pushing into him.

He struck her cleanly on the face.

“You lay your unwashed hands on me and then _deign_ to stare? Now I’ve had to besmirch myself in order to teach you a lesson. Who do you work for? I am sure he will be sufficiently embarrassed by your actions to have you whipped.”

She stood, her mouth open and eyes wide, still staring. Her hand withdrew to her cheek, which she could feel reddening.

Fenris was at her side, immediately. “Do you know who I am?”

The man looked perplexed. “Why do you think I could tell one slave from...”

Fenris shoved back the hood of his cloak, exposing the white-blue marks covering his skin.

“Oh... Fuck. You... Danarius...”

“Oh, so you have heard of my former master, then? I killed him easily enough. And I’ve killed pompous asses like you for far less than the generosity you just showed my friend. Let us pass, and we can forget this indiscretion. Otherwise, it’s been at least two weeks since I’ve killed anyone. I wouldn’t want anyone to get the notion that I was out of practice.” Fenris reached back slowly, towards the greatsword he carried on his back. She knew that he could bring it down upon the man in a fraction of a second.

The man stepped backwards, turning abruptly and tried to lose himself in the crowd.

Varric clapped slowly. “Great job Broody! You didn’t even have to kill anyone today!”

Fenris smiled, ever so slightly. “It is early, still. There may be time yet.”

A woman screamed and the crowd parted a few yards in front of them. She saw that the man who had accosted her was on the ground shaking and writhing. Foam and blood dripped from his mouth, but no sounds escaped it. His limbs moved jerkily, as though he was being pulled by a puppeteer. She turned back to her companions, horrified.

Solas shrugged, his mouth a thin line, smug and indifferent.

She narrowed her eyes, eyebrows raised, throwing him a stern gaze.

His eyes widened at the response and he frowned slightly, abashed.

Varric shook his head. “And we were doing so well... Let’s get out of here. The sooner the better.”

She turned to Solas. “He is going to recover, isn’t he?”

The elf shrugged. “Would it be so terrible if he didn’t?”

Her frown deepened. “Solas…”

He sighed. “Fine, yes. He’ll be fine. No memory of the last few weeks, but otherwise unharmed. Ready to accost more travelers as he sees fit…”

“Maybe leave him with some of his memories. Can you just make it so he doesn’t remember _us_ particularly?”

“Ma nuvenin, vhenan. I live to serve.” He bowed slightly as they exited the square.

They moved back towards Dorian, who had noticed the commotion and seen his friends at the center of it.

_I doubt he’s surprised._

“Didn’t Josephine specifically request that you take some care to _not_ be noticed?” the magister commented.

Varric rolled his eyes. “And that outfit you’re wearing was meant to blend in?”

Dorian laughed. “Well, it seems the colors this season are black and gold, if you haven’t noticed.” He gestured generally to the port. “The moment I found out, I discarded everything I owned that could have been mistaken for those shades. In case you haven’t noticed, I do not follow trends. I make them.”

She smiled, wrapping her arms around him. “I have missed you. It has been _too_ long.”

He returned her embrace, the warmth of his smooth skin giving her comfort. “Even moment is far too long to be from your presence, my dear.” He kissed her forehead, gently.

She felt herself smiling. “Let’s get out of here before anyone starts looking too hard.”

He nodded. “Follow me.” He motioned to the group. “Welcome to Tevinter. I would say that it gets better, but... At least my home will be pleasant. You’ll find that many of my countrymen are a bit... old fashioned.”

“You mean racist?” Hawke offered.

“That’s precisely what I mean. Against elves, primarily. Though they probably like the Qunari less. At least elves are _useful_ to them.” He grimaced, sighing.

They approached the gates, Dorian with utmost confidence, the rest of them trying to avoid seeming suspicious. The guard looked down at Dorian, disinterested.

“Papers?”

Dorian nodded, reaching into his breast pocket, pulling out a stack of travel documents that would hopefully earn them passage into the city. He extended his arm, handing them to the guard.

He took them brusquely and shuffled through the papers. “That’s a lot of elves, all at once. You’re an odd group. Family, is it?” The guard laughed at his own joke.

Dorian chuckled politely to maintain appearances, but not heartily. The rest of them stared.

The guard turned to her and Merrill. “Those are some pretty ones you have there. You wouldn’t mind me taking them with me for a night or two, would you?”

Dorian smiled, wickedly. “I don’t like to share.”

That seemed to appease him. “Well enough, that. I can appreciate a man who stakes his claim. I’ve never been with an elf, in truth. Thought it might be fun.” He grinned at her. She noticed that he was missing two of his front teeth and the others did not seem to be in the best of shape. He moved to brush away a strand of hair, his fingers falling from her cheek to her neck, tracing the curve of her tunic. She did not turn away, did not move. She simply stood, staring.

_I am the Inquisitor. I will not be cowed by this sorry excuse for a man._

The guard laughed again, his ample stomach shaking. “Watch out for this one. She’s got the look that she’d bite your cock off as soon as suck it.”

Dorian nodded, pulling her away. “Noted. Thank you for your astute observation.”

“Anytime, friend.” He nodded to the rest of them. “Welcome to Tevinter.”

She did not look at Solas as they entered the city, her cheeks burning.

_Perhaps if I hope hard enough, I can will him to keep his composure._

They entered the city without any more bodies dropping, passing the guard and through the gate he defended. Whether Solas’s restraint was because of her glance at him following the earlier incident or the strength of her thoughts, she would never be certain.

\--

They crossed the city, passing past great domed structures and statues of long-dead magisters, towering solemnly above their heads, staves in hand. Mosaics of magical battles were portrayed on the sides of the more important looking buildings, mages standing tall against brutish Qunari and vicious looking elves. The few Qunari she had met were imposing, of course, but she had never seen such inhuman features on their skin as was portrayed in the artwork of the Tevene. And of course, the subtle natural beauty of her own people was lost completely in their murals.

Portraits depicted the razing of Arlathan, battalions of human mages running through the city, fire and lightning sprouting from their palms. Exquisite detail was given to the Tevene mages, each strand of hair and freckle distinct in the images. The elves in the pictures were all helmed or in chains; none of the free elves had faces at all and those enslaved were blurred. They had taken agency and identity both from her people, leaving them bound and shattered.

Her companions, not even Merrill, made no remark of the artwork as they strode through the city in silence. There were too many elves in the group—each holding too much sorrow—for anyone to feel comfortable saying anything.

Solas took her hand, holding it gently in his own. His expression was inscrutable. He looked forward, at Dorian’s back, not glancing to either side to see the fall of their people portrayed so callously by their conquerors.

A streak of red and brown caught her eye. She thought she had imagined it, but then a person in a much-too-large hat stepped out from the shadows behind a column.

“Cole?” she said, staring at the young man, startled.

He smiled, glancing at each of them in turn. “Hello there. I thought you might need some help. So, I brought myself.”

Solas smiled. “We are glad to have you, Cole. I think this is a place particularly suited to your talents.”

She had always found Solas’s treatment of Cole to be endearing, if a little overbearing. He seemed to push the young man towards his more spirit-like side, an interesting position given that he had chosen the opposite. Perhaps there was some regret Solas felt from taking on a body. He had not said as much, but he seemed to always wish to protect the young man from the pains of being human.

Cole nodded. “There’s pain here. I can feel it, permeating the air. Souls straining against their bindings, hoping for a spark of something more, disappointed and grinding themselves up until there’s nothing left. Yes. I am glad to have come. I can help here.”

“Is it normal for him to do that?” Fenris asked. “Just… coming from nowhere?”

Solas nodded. “He’s a spirit. He’ll do what he likes.”

Fenris gripped the hilt of his sword. “You mean a demon?”

Shaking his head, Solas frowned. “No, I meant precisely what I said. Cole will not harm you, not unless you wish one of us ill. And he can hear your thoughts, so I would avoid _thinking_ about murdering us as well.”

Fenris grunted, sighing. “And here I thought I was done with magic. More’s the pity.”

Hawke laughed. “You didn’t exactly complain when we offered you a position on our little hit squad. If I remember correctly, you were ready to go within a minute of trying to strangle the Inquisitor.”

The elf looked at her, guiltily. “I _had_ hoped everyone would forget about that.”

“And lose out on potential blackmail material? Never.” Varric snorted.

“Oh, is it time to stop and admire the scenery? I hadn’t noticed. I was under the distinct impression that you lot would want to rest and wash up. You certainly could all use it.” Dorian had reached the end of the block without them, waving his hand. “We’re nearly there. Can we save the bickering for when we’ve all had a seat? And perhaps a nice bath?”

She tapped Hawke’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s all get moving. A bath would be rather nice.”

“Come on, Fen. You can complain about us mages in a short while.”

Fenris turned to look at him, presumably surprised by the sudden use of a nickname. He didn’t seem displeased, simply confused. The group of them followed the magister through the city, finally rounding on a large estate nearly on the edge of the walls.

“I like to be away from prying eyes,” Dorian said, explaining. “I can get up to more trouble unnoticed that way.”

\--

Fenris was the first of the group to throw himself at the furniture. The piece he had selected seemed particularly desirable, a plush, velvet settee the color of crushed rubies. He lay on his back, head halfway between the arms of the couch, legs dangling off of the arm closest to the door.

“I forget how welcoming you people are. What an absolute _joy_ it is to be back in Tevinter.”

Dorian bristled. “Aren’t you Tevene as well? No respect for your countrymen?”

He rolled over on his side, head supported by his arm. “I was _raised_ in Tevinter, yes, after I was stolen away from wherever I actually hail from. Kidnapped and pressed into servitude with no hope of freedom until I decided it make it for myself. I carved my life out with sweat and blood. I do not believe that makes me Tevene.”

Dorian sighed. “I am sorry, really. I had not thought about the institution of slavery until coming to Ferelden and joining the Inquisition. You have our Inquisitor to thank for my enlightenment.”

Fenris scowled. “That is precisely the reason why Tevinter will never change. _You_ don’t even notice the ills you cause until someone beats you over the head with the idea that it’s a vast injustice.”

She held up a hand. “Fenris, I agree with you, but Dorian is not responsible for all of the problems of the world.”

He turned back over, face away from them. “Yes, but what did he do to help? He’s a _magister._ He could have _done something_ , but he did not.”

Hawke moved towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Fenris flipped around and grabbed his arm, pulling him to the floor.

“Agh! I was just going to say something comforting!” Hawke said from the ground.

“Do not presume that I wish to be touched.”

Hawke stood, brushing himself off. “Can I touch you, then?”

Fenris looked at him, considering. “Yes. I will allow it. This time.”

Hawke looked surprised, but he sat next to the man, Fenris sitting up to make room for him. Hawke’s hand took his, tenderly and cautiously, as though approaching a wounded animal.

Hawke and Fenris’s eyes met and she hoped truly that their reconciliation would begin in earnest. “I just wanted to say that none of us did anything to help. But we would like to, now. You are the expert, clearly, but we all want to change the situation. Please allow us, Fenris. You do not need to push us away. We all want to help. No one should need to go through what you did. There isn’t a person alive who deserves that.”

Fenris nodded, sighing. “Your plan to free the slaves is unlikely to succeed without opening a sea of blood. Tevinter is not going to easily give up their commodities. Then there is another thing to consider—where will all of these freed slaves go? To Ferelden where they will be shunned from the villages? To the Marches, where they’ll be relegated to the alienages? No. There are _hundreds of thousands_ of slaves in Minrathous alone. That is far too many people to be easily absorbed by a neighboring country. And if they stay here? They’ll still be slaves, in all but a name.”

“You were able to escape. I see no reason why the others could not. It could work.” Merrill said, hopefully.

Fenris shook his head, frowning. “I have always been a warrior. Most of the slaves here are not. Can you see a field hand or a housekeeper picking up a sword and fighting off the slave hunters? No. They will need to be under protection. Someone will need to look out for them or they will end up right back where they began, mostly likely worse off than before.”

She nodded. “I know that there will be tremendous social upheaval. I believe our best chance is to encourage the slaves themselves to revolt. Sow distrust for their masters, breed hope in a better future.”

Varric smiled. “And that happens to be your specialty, Inquisitor.”

Smiling, she nodded again. “For better or worse. We will also need a storyteller, a magister, a former slave, a blood mage, a spirit, and a god.”

Varric chuckled. “There just _has_ to be a bar joke in there, somewhere.”

“I noticed that none of those descriptions apply to me,” Hawke said, his face fallen.

“Yeah, you can be the comedic relief,” Varric offered.

“ _And_ the Champion of Kirkwall,” she added.

She could hear his sigh from across the room. “Thanks for remembering me…”

Fenris turned to him, laughing. “You don’t exactly allow yourself to be forgotten.”

“Come on! It’s our first night in Minrathous. Danger lurks around every corner. We’re not going to solve all of the societal ills in one sitting. So obviously, we’re going drinking instead.”

She hesitated initially, as she would have preferred to have a bath drawn and slip into sleep, but Varric’s unbridled enthusiasm won her over in the end. She followed him, as did the others, shoes clicking gently on the cobblestone pavement. She noticed that one of her companions did not elect to join them.

“Solas, are you not coming?” she asked, hoping that he would follow with the rest of them.

He smiled. “Not tonight, vhenan. There are tasks I must attend to and I don’t believe that I will be missed. At least not after a couple of rounds in.”

Dorian smiled apologetically, speaking softly enough so that the elf couldn’t hear him. “It’s well enough that he decided to stay. We can’t very well talk about him if you’re sitting right in front of us.”

Varric nodded, rolling his eyes. “And it’s not like the two of you have been separate for more than about five minutes over the last several weeks.” He motioned to her and Solas as he spoke, the message clear.

She frowned, shrugging. “Very well, then. I think they wish to question me, anyway. I will find you, after.” She moved to him, took his hand, and craned her neck to kiss his forehead. “I promise.”

He smiled, kissing her lips. “I look forward to it, vhenan.” He turned away, standing at the entrance to the Pavus estate alone, golden light from the setting sun casting him in an unearthly glow. Their slightly reduced group walked through the golden city, marveling at the soaring domes of the buildings lain out before them, their balustrades threatening to pierce the sky.

They followed Dorian along the cobblestone. Passersby tended to part to allow him room—he was like a hull cutting through the great sea of Minrathi before them. Something about his bearing conveyed his station, even if he would not directly admit it. Though he chose not to cloak himself in the robes of the Magisterium, it was clear that he emanated power. A city like Minrathous had three types of people: those who could command respect, those who gravitated towards it hungrily, and those who would rather hide their faces and avoid it at all costs. She was glad they encountered the latter as they passed through the moonlit streets. Anything else would have been tiresome.

They arrived finally at an establishment with an ogre carved into the swinging wooden signpost above the door.

“The One-Eyed Ogre,” Dorian said with a flourish. “Just seedy enough to avoid unwanted attention, without having to cling to your purse. And they have a fine wine. Ale’s not bad, either, if you prefer.”

“Have you ever encountered an ogre, one-eyed or otherwise? I’ve never seen one up close!” Merrill giggled.

Hawke shook his head. “Merrill, there’s not likely to be one here, either. Just like there wasn’t a Hanged Man in Kirkwall.”

“That’s not true! I’ve seen many men…” She noticed the struck look that the others gave her. “Oh, never mind. There must be a story there, at least. About the ogre, I mean.”

Dorian laughed. “The story is that the bartender is as ugly as a Brood Mother. I think his brother gave him the nickname.”

“Oh, well… I _do_ still hope to see one in my travels.”

Varric chuckled. “Honestly, Daisy, I think you’re the only person to have ever said that.”

She shrugged. “I like things. I don’t understand why everyone doesn’t share my enthusiasm.”

“Usually most people have a healthy fear of things that they should,” Hawke offered

Fenris snorted. “ _You_ never have possessed that trait.”

“I never said that _I_ have a healthy fear of anything. It isn’t my fault that I was blessed with unbridled courage.”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “Either that, or unbridled stupidity.”

Hawke smiled. “Then you must be the biggest fool of all of us.”

“And why, pray, is that?”

“Because you love me, knowing full well all of my insufficiencies.”

Fenris straightened, his mouth agape at Hawke’s casual use of the word. “Hawke, I…”

The other man smiled. “Don’t worry about it. First round is on me.” He left the table, pushing his chair in gently, and moving towards the bar.

Fenris exhaled deeply, as though he had been holding his breath the entire time. “That was… unexpected.”

Varric raised his eyebrow. “Really? And I thought you were the less dense one. _He’s trying to win you back_. He doesn’t know how. So he makes jokes to try and cut through the ice. Is it working?”

Fenris’s body seemed to slump a little. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“You don’t need to. Not yet. You have time,” she said, softly.

Fenris seemed content to let the conversation drop, so she turned back to her other companions, giving him his peace.

“Okay,” she looked at Varric and Dorian. “So, what are you two up to?”

Varric whipped a quill and parchment from his jacket. She was surprised that it had made the journey from Skyhold intact. “So, if you had to say that something changed since the Conclave, what would you say has affected you the most?”

“Wait, is this to be an interview?”

Fenris smiled. “I’m surprised he lasted this long. After the Qunari attacked Kirkwall, he was following Anders and I around for weeks.”

“Yeah, and neither of you were helpful. All I got from Anders was some nonsense about the alley cats he was feeding. I remember they had names that were so adorable that I thought that Merrill had named them. You were even less helpful.”

“I distinctly remember sitting with you for at least four hours one evening,” Fenris replied.

Varric rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I left the Hanged Man with a few grunts and a much lighter wallet. You could drink the Arishok under the table.”

He shrugged. “I have had a considerable amount of practice.”

Varric sighed. “Anyway… Your Inquisitorialness, I would like to repeat my question. What has changed for you the most since this whole thing started?”

She raised an eyebrow as Hawke returned with the drinks, setting them in front of each with turn. He brought Cole a glass of water.

“My whole life has gone completely mad and you’re asking me to rank things?”

“Fine, just list some things that have changed. I’ll take creative liberties with the exact numerical position.”

She nodded, considering. “Let’s see. So, I’ll start with the obvious. I’m companions with an ancient elven god who _may_ have caused the destruction of my ancestors’ civilization. He’s also apparently about 8,000 years older than I am. Also, it turns out that _all_ of my gods are actually just mages who instead of being bastions of righteousness, _enslaved my people including my ancient elven god lover._ Oh, and it turns out that he’s also a spirit of pride. So, there’s that added complication.”

Cole nodded. “I thought you could tell he was a spirit. You always treated him differently.”

She smiled at him. “Cole, that wasn’t because I thought he was a spirit.”

Cole seemed mildly confused. Then his face changed suddenly. “Oh, you loved him before I met you, did you not? Was that why you always looked at him like that?”

She glanced around the table before nodding. The group stared at her. “I was not aware of it at first, perhaps, but he… I’ve felt something for him since the first time we met.”

Merrill smiled. “I love a good love story.”

She frowned. “I’m not sure if it’s a ‘good love story’ quite yet. I’ll let you know.” She paused, sighing. “Returning to our previous discussion, the man I’ve been sharing a bed with obfuscated the truth and indirectly caused the destruction that completely upended my life in the first place, destruction which he was _trying_ to cause in order to bring back the civilization of ancient elven slavers. I don’t have a hand anymore, because he, in essence, gave me a weird magical parasite. Somehow, despite all of that, apparently, I can do magic now too. Because he is teaching me. ” She sighed, taking a deep breath. “Solas has been a very… influential figure in the recent events of my life, evidently. Does that cover it?”

Dorian blinked. “I’m sorry, but you said that you and Solas have been _sleeping together_?”

She squinted at him, shaking her head. “All of that exposition and that’s the line you settle on?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

She shrugged. “You were in a different country!”

He hit his forehead with his hand, shaking his head. “I gave you a magical communication crystal for the explicit purpose of you telling me these things! You just used it for work!”

She laughed then, at the ridiculousness of it all. “I didn’t think you wanted to know!”

“If people are fucking, I want to be the first to know. Unless it’s Cole. For some reason I find that strange. Like finding out your child is… Ugh.” He shuddered. “Let’s move on.”

Cole smiled. “I have never felt that urge, but if I do, I will be sure to satisfy your curiosity.”

Dorian groaned. “Cole…”

The young man smiled from beneath his hat, looking around the table. “Oh, was that not funny? I thought you would want to hear a joke. It appears I was mistaken. I will not make the assumption again.”

Dorian’s jaw dropped. “You… what? A joke?”

A peal of laughter erupted from Varrric’s end of the table. “Your face at that comment was the real joke, Sparkles.” He raised a hand to high five Cole. The young man gently took the dwarf’s hand and held it for an uncomfortably long time.

The rest of the table burst into unabashed laughter.

\--

She found Solas awake in the room he’d rapidly turned into his study, still awake and reading, when the group of them had stumbled back from the tavern. It was only a few hours before the sun would be up, she knew and was slightly surprised to see that he had waited. Not because late nights were particularly unusual for the man, he slept very little in truth, but because the journey had seemed to take quite a toll on him. He was much more quiet than usual on the ship from Kirkwall and had only seemed to relieve his silence when they had nearly reached their destination.

“Inquisitor,” he said softly, marking the page and closing his book. It was strange to see how even that word, her official title, had become a sort of endearment when it came from his lips. “How was your evening?”

She smiled. “As silly as ever. Varric practically wanted an interview with me. He was suddenly very interested on my emotional takes during the entire ordeal with Corypheus.”

“Ah, yes. Cole told me that he’d been writing a book. I think he tried to interview him as well, but… You know him. He’s a bit cryptic for general audiences.”

“Cole joined us at the tavern.”

Solas turned to look at her, cocking his head. “Well, that must have been something to see. I trust that you kept the alcohol away from then? He’s a sensitive spirit—I can’t imagine that inebriation would suit him well.”

She snorted. “He downed nearly an entire keg by himself. Those lot are a terrible influence. If not for Merrill and I, he would probably still be down there and we’d be as like as not to find them all in a pool of their own vomit come morning. We had to drag him all the way back here.”

He looked concerned. Solas had always treated Cole like a younger sibling.

_It makes sense, given that they both seem to have the same origin._

“Don’t worry, I put him to bed. Tucked him in and everything, even kissed him goodnight. Then I came to find you.”

He bowed. “I’m honored. Even in your cups you come looking for me, despite the obvious appeal of your bed.”

“ _Our_ bed. And besides, I was wondering if you could do something for my headache. Too much liquor and too little water, I’m afraid.”

He nodded. “I might be able to do something for that. He moved towards the corner of the room, pulling a metal teapot out of a cabinet. He filled it with water and lit a small fire in the fireplace from his palm.

“What is this room, anyway? How did you set up shop so quickly?”

He laughed. “You were gone for quite some time. It’s just off of Dorian’s main study. He said that it’s scarcely been used since he became a magister. It’s sat unoccupied. I cleaned everything and set it in order immediately after you left. Had you been gone much longer, I had an urge to design some paintings…”

She sat in the chair he had until recently been occupying, knees up against her chest. She rested her head on her legs, sighing. “Oh, don’t let me keep you from your work!”

He moved back towards her, placing his hands on her back. She sat up a bit straighter as he began to massage her shoulders, working out the knots that had accumulated in her muscles. She felt her arms begin to tingle at his touch. She had forgotten how sore he was and how nice it was to have someone touch her like that. She sighed, her body loosening.

“What are you doing, Solas?”

“I thought that was clear. You said you were hurting and I said that I would try to help. I can stop if you would like.”

She shook her head. “No… please don’t. This feels amazing.” She allowed her legs to drop back to the floor and pressed her back closer to him, nuzzling her cheek against his stomach. He ran his hands through her hair, fingers rhythmically tracing circles against her scalp. She leaned backwards as his thumbs massaged her temples, around her ears, and down the back of her neck.

_I don’t think I’ve been this relaxed in years._

“I don’t believe you’ve ever talked much about what life was like before you ended up with the Anchor. What were you like, before?”

She considered. He had not asked much about her past. “Much the same as I am now, I would suspect.”

He laughed, kissing her forehead. “Of course, be mysterious then.”

She sighed. “It feels so long ago. Truthfully, I can’t remember. Perhaps if you’re more specific, I can try to come up with a better answer.”

“Ah, yes. Well, one thing I’ve always wondered about is your age.”

She laughed, glancing sideways at him. “My _age_? I didn’t celebrate many birthdays, but I’m around thirty-three. I thought you knew that.”

He looked concerned. “Oh, I didn’t mean… I know your age of course. I just have always thought it was strange that you, a relatively young Dalish elf, was sent to the Conclave in the first place.”

“Oh, that. I was the ambassador to Clan Lavellan, of sorts. I did quite a bit of work with treaties and trade agreements with humans. It made sense to send me as I was the only one in our clan with extensive experience with non-elves. I lived among them for much of my adult life.”

“Really? And that experience did not cause you to resent them?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. The humans tell monstrous stories of us, but we tell them of the humans as well. It’s an unpopular opinion among the Dalish, but I do not believe that the majority of humanity is bad, nor do I believe the majority of elves are good. We’re all just… people. We make mistakes and have prejudices. We develop misconceptions from our parents that are passed down until none of us really know the origin any longer. No, I do not resent the humans. I resent some of their actions, but that anger does not spread to an entire race.”

He smiled. “That’s… astute of you. I did not think that any of the Dalish would share your views.”

She frowned. “You are too harsh on them.”

He sighed. “I know…”

“You know, there was a reason I didn’t marry any of my peers. The Dalish marry relatively young—many of us before we hit twenty. Most of my childhood friends have been married for over a decade now.”

“But you chose to devote yourself to understanding the humans? Interesting.”

“No, it wasn’t that. It was that there was nobody who would even _try_ to understand where the humans came from. They were so convinced that we were correct and the humans were wrong. I was never so sure. There _was_ prejudice, but when you consider the history of my people—our enslavement and slaughter at the hands of the humans, it is entirely unsurprising. But I did not want the cycle to continue. A war between factions can only come to a close if both sides agree to see the personhood of the others. If we vilify our enemies, we become no better than them.”

He tutted, brushing a stray hair away from her ear. “So, you chose against a prejudiced young elf and settled for a prejudiced old one?”

She laughed. “Something like that. You’ve improved immeasurably since we first met.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you’ve thought so. I still cringe when I think of our first conversation in Haven. I wasn’t exactly kind about your people… Our people.” He kissed her forehead. “You always surprise me, vhenan, even still. I am incredibly, _indescribably_ lucky to have met you.”

“I would claim that the entire world is lucky that you met me, Solas.”

“I cannot argue with that.” A sharp whistle cut through the silence of the room. Her tea was ready. Solas crossed, putting out the fire and grabbing the teapot with his bare hand without so much as a grimace. “Allow me. I believe I have something that should make you feel better.”

“Speaking with you always makes me feel better.”

“Thank you for the compliment, but I do think this will help more than my company.” He gathered some herbs from the cabinet and dropped them into the pot. “It’ll just be a few minutes. You should drink some water in the meantime.” He poured a large glass for her, handing it to her, gingerly.

She looked at him, sipping the water, her head still spinning slightly. “Is it my turn to interrogate you, now?”

He snorted. “You can do so whenever you like, vhenan. Was that not our deal?”

She cocked her head, squinting her eyes, a sweet smile crossing her face. “Yes, but I’d like to avoid forcing my questions upon you. I know how you _hate_ to talk of yourself.”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing the teapot. He set out a small cup for her, placing a metal mesh below the lip of the pot. He filtered out the leaves, pouring slowly, steam rolling from the glass. When he was done, she took it eagerly.

“Careful! It will need to cool before…”

She had already gulped down a scalding sip. The tea seared her throat and she nearly spit it right back out. “Andraste’s ass, why didn’t you warn me?”

He shook his head. “You sound like Sera, with that curse. How much wine did you _have_? I would have thought that you would know that tea is usually served hot, especially since you _just saw me_ take it off the flame.”

She held the cup out to him. “Would you like some?”

He frowned, his distaste clear. “Thank you, but no. I prefer to only drink it when _absolutely_ necessary. Tea is a functional tool, not a pleasure.”

She laughed. “You don’t add enough milk and sugar, then. I’ll make it for you some time. It will change your life.”

He smiled, kissing her head. “You’ve already changed my life in so many other ways, vhenan, but I believe this one will be the hardest to alter.”

She took his hand, leading him to the chaise lounge in the corner. “Will you hold me, Solas? I want you close.”

He took her cup from her, bringing her hand to his lips, gently as a feather. He sat the still steaming tea on the table beside the couch and pulled her up into his arms, her legs dangling.

She wrapped her arm around his neck, smiling. “Set me down, you’re making the room spin. I’m not sure if it’s from the alcohol or your proximity.”

“As you wish.” He placed her softly on the deep red velvet before curling up against her supine figure. He handed her back the glass. “Drink. But blow on it first this time.”

She took the cup to her lips again, this time much more carefully. The tea was grassy and fresh, not unlike what she would have had back in the Marches, with her clan. Unlike Solas, she enjoyed the taste. It reminded her of home.

“I had a question for you—I had nearly forgotten.”

He nodded. “Proceed, then.”

“When we were in the Fade…”

He looked at her curiously. “Which time?”

“No, when we were _physically_ in the Fade. Before we fought the Nightmare.”

He nodded. “That would have been a scholastically beneficial endeavor, if not for our companion needing to remain behind. I had been wanting to go there physically.”

She narrowed her eyes, staring.

_You wanted to go there physically to tear down the Veil, you unbridled ass._

“Ah, yes, an unpleasant reminder of a different time. I am sorry. Please ask your question.”

She nodded, still looking at him sideways. “When we were there, the Nightmare showed me your fears. The fears of everyone in our circle, actually. It was trying to intimidate me, to show that it knew our secrets better than we did. Yours… I found particularly intriguing.”

“And what did the demon tell you?”

“That you feared dying alone. I found that strange, as you seemed to push yourself towards that fate at every turn. Do you still fear it?”

He turned his head, considering. “I… Yes and no. Before we met, I had no real concept of what it would be to have someone to share my life with. All I had known was loneliness. It was a pleasant idea to think that there was some world where I would no longer need to be alone, even if I could not imagine it truly. I was afraid that I would die never having the opportunity to experience unfettered intimacy.” He sighed, drawing her closer. “Before I was afraid that I would not have the chance to feel love. Now that I know what it means to lose you, to be without you, to drive myself away from you, that fear is even more concrete. What was once a vague dread became a very specific anxiety. One I would very much like to avoid.”

She pressed her head against his chest, feeling his beating heart against her ear. “Losing you again would be the death of me.”

He pressed his lips to her brow. “Likewise, vhenan.” He brushed a stray hair behind her ear. “It is interesting, then, how we keep finding ourselves in situations that could easily result in one or both of our deaths.”

She laughed. “We would have it no other way. Not while there is injustice in this world.”

“True. I will just need to do my best to protect you, then.”

She rolled her eyes. “I think it is _you_ who needs my protection. You would be a mess of trouble without me.”

“And you would have succumbed to the anchor, without me.”

She sat up, pressing her arm against his chest. “Excuse me, I would have never had that unfortunate experience if I hadn’t met you.”

He pulled her back down against him. “I would say I was sorry, but I wouldn’t want to lie to you. We would have been far worse off if you had not been the one to carry that particular burden. Can you imagine Varric or Bull as the Inquisitor? Things would have been quite different.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine _either_ of them wanting to have sex with you.”

He laughed. “You might be surprised. I _am_ known to be quite charming, after all.”

She snorted. “You and Bull, now that would be a sight to see. I would pay for that.”

“That would require an unholy amount of coin. Even the Inquisition’s coffers may not be full enough to finance that endeavor. Unfortunately I have eyes only for you. In another lifetime, perhaps.”

“I must admit that I am somewhat disappointed.”

He tutted. “Drink your tea, vhenan.”

She sipped, her headache slowly receding. She pressed her head against his chest, closing her eyes against the incoming morning light.

She could not have said when, but he must have taken the porcelain cup from her hand at some point, setting it against the table to keep her from dropping it on the floor. His arms were still wrapped around her when she awoke, the smell of herbs and parchment thick against his skin. She wanted to stay there, with him, for eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back home after a long vacation! Looking forward to spending even more time with these characters and getting to the juicy stuff. 
> 
> Just finished my Solas POV Crestwood ficlet, [Deception Unraveling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20045434/chapters/47469481) so check that out if you want some pain.
> 
> Also, feel free to say hi on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/midnightprelude)! I'm basically a noob on there, so I always welcome friends. :)
> 
> Dareth shiral.


	12. Memories of the Dalish

Soft footsteps caused her to stir, adjusting herself against the lounge that she and Solas had evidently both spent the evening against. Rubbing her eyes and squinting at the afternoon light, she stood slowly, trying not to disturb him. It was unusual for Solas to sleep in this late and she did not want to be the one to ruin it.

The door opened quietly and Merrill slipped in. When she saw that the room was occupied, she jumped, squealing.

She turned back to Solas to see the mage had bolted up from his slumber, reaching for his staff, finding it out of reach. After a moment, he seemed to remember where they were and his shoulders relaxed, breathing quickly.

“Ah! I’m sorry… I wasn’t expecting anyone in here.”

He shook his head. “Quite a way to begin one’s day. I’m not particularly fond of waking up to the sound of screaming women.”

Merrill looked guilty. “I am sorry! Truly. I was just looking for the washroom.”

“Well, it’s clearly not here.” He was nearly shaking. It was quite unusual that he was frightened, especially by someone as slight and gentle as Merrill.

She took Merrill’s arm, leading her out of the room. Solas wasn’t always known for his good humor in the morning and it was best not to test it further.

“Come along, let’s find it together. We didn’t do much exploring last night with all of the drinking we did.”

Merrill sighed. “I really should have taken a look around, not that I would have been able to find it stumbling around as drunk as I was. I had forgotten how much Varric and the rest could drink. I haven’t let myself have alcohol since…”

She laughed. “You and me both. I wonder if poor Cole is up yet.”

Merrill shook her head. “I already checked in on him. Sound asleep. I didn’t know that spirits slept!”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know that they drank, either. The world is full of strange things and Cole is just one of the many.”

They made their way across Dorian’s labyrinthine estate, trying to avoid waking up any of their companions. The men had stayed out longer than they had and were likely to still be sleeping off their own hangovers. They passed a few servants, but she was pleased to see that none of them seemed to be slaves, and there was seemingly an equal number of humans and elves about. None of them seemed to carry the same bearing as those they had seen in the markets, the constant shifting and skirting away from anyone who seemed even moderately important as though they were afraid that any false move would result in pain. Given her recent experience, it must be a common thing for mages to strike those in their employ. Perhaps even those not in their employ, in truth. Tevinter was a harsh place for her people, but apparently not all of the Tevene treated their servants with the same level of disdain. She found herself smiling with pride, remembering that Dorian’s time in the Inquisition had altered his approach to the world.

“Where is everyone?” Merrill asked. They hadn’t seen anyone but the house staff wandering about.

She looked around. “I think the Tevene sleep in much later than we do down south. Likely it’s something to do with the heat.”

Merrill nodded. “I think I’ll need to get some new clothes while we’re here. I was prepared for winter in the Frostbacks, not this humid mess.” She met her eyes. “Oh, would you mind going shopping with me? I know it’s silly, but I’d like to get to know you better... I haven’t met another one of the Dalish in...” She laughed uncomfortably. “Well, it’s been quite some time. And I could always use another friend.”

She smiled. “I would love to. I’d like to know more about you, as well. You were a First, yes? That’s amazing. You must know so much about Dalish history. I spent much of my time with the hunters, before leaving to live amongst the humans, which didn’t allow me much time to study our traditions. I would have liked to know more.”

Merrill’s eyes widened. “You lived with the humans? But you were part of a clan?”

She nodded. “I was something like an ambassador. We lived quite close to Wycome, in the Free Marches. We spent more time near human settlements than most of the clans. I brokered most of our negotiations with non-elves and other Dalish.”

The other woman smiled. “Then the Inquisition and the People were lucky to both have claim to you. You have done wonders for the Dalish, just by existing as you are. People in the alienages... They have _hope_ now. I hadn’t seen that since I moved to Kirkwall. I hadn’t really seen it in the clans, either, if I’m honest. But they believe in you.”

Her throat tensed and she could feel the tears forming involuntarily in the corners of her eyes. “That... may have been the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I have always wanted what was best for the Dalish. For all of the elves. It has been so long since we’ve known peace.”

Merrill smiled, wrapping her in an embrace. “I hope we live to see it again. Thank you.”

“You’re thanking me? I haven’t done anything. You’re the one showering me in kindnesses.” She returned the hug, holding the other woman tightly.

Merrill pulled away, gently, looking her in the eyes. “You have done quite a lot. More than you realize. Now, can we try to find the restroom?”

She laughed, brushing a tear aside with her good hand. “We probably should.”

They eventually managed to track down the main washroom, which was at least twice the size of Merrill’s entire home in Kirkwall. Light from an open balcony reflected off the smooth, marble floor. She was sure that it was no cheap imitation, either. The room was surprisingly well-lit, windows adorned the walls, giving a panoramic view over the great wall surrounding the city of Minrathous. She moved to examine them, thinking it strange that a room where people would find themselves in various states of undress would be so easily exposed. As she approached, she realized that the windows were glistening. She suspected that Dorian had enchanted them himself to allow for the view, while preventing onlookers from seeing inside.

_That tricky man. He’s more than half a genius when he puts his mind to it._

There were three separate baths, the largest having room for at least a dozen people, comfortably. Quite a few more could have fit uncomfortably, if the mood struck. The others, each on opposite sides, were twins, allowing for at least five people each. She noted that there were curtains that could be drawn around the individual tubs, for privacy. She imagined that they were laundered daily, to avoid mildew.

Running the Pavus house would be no simple feat, she realized. No wonder he was surprised by the state of the Inquisition when he had met them at Haven. If he took a _small army_ to maintain chambers for himself alone, how many would be expected to maintain chambers for a _large army_ like the one serving the Inquisition?

Merrill sighed, looking admiringly at their surroundings. “To live like this... I feel like a queen.”

She frowned. _There is a reason the Tevene have accumulated so much wealth. But, we should enjoy it while we can._

Her smile was perhaps not as jolly as it should have been. “It’s been too long since I’ve had a proper bath,” she replied simply, unwilling to dampen Merrill’s spirits.

Merrill nearly skipped over to the path towards the left of the room. “I think I’ll be able to pull my _entire head_ under the water here! And look!” Merrill pointed to the vast array of soaps of all different colors. “There are so many scents that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to decide which to use.”

She laughed. “Would you like me to choose for you?”

To her surprise, the other woman nodded. “It could be fun, you know! We could guess what the other would like. Ah, it sounds odd now that I’ve said it aloud. Maybe not... Unless...? Sorry.” Merrill shuffled uncomfortably.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “It was my suggestion, Merrill! You need to be a bit more confident. All of us here, we’re your friends, or will be soon. We all spend time with you because we _enjoy_ your company! You don’t need to apologize for being yourself all of the time.”

The other woman shook her head, looking away. “I’m sorry, I just... Everyone in my clan always thought me a fool.” She screwed up her face. “ _Oh look, it’s Merrill. Somehow,_ she _was made First. Someday_ she’ll _be in charge of an entire unfortunate clan herself, if she lasts that long.”_ She apparently had someone in mind when she spoke, her face falling. “I am sorry. I should not speak ill of them... I was terrible for my clan. They all died...” She sat limply on the rim of the bathtub, her limbs splaying, and head in her hands. “They all died because of me. Because I was too stupid to listen.”

She moved to sit next to Merrill, throwing her arm around her shoulder and embracing her from the side. “You did not know the consequences of your actions. You can mourn for those you lost and even regret your decisions, but do not let it stain your soul. You have a gentle heart and devoted your life after the rebellion started towards healing. That is incredibly admirable. We have all, each one of us, been a part of terrible things. We’ve made terrible decisions. All we can do is live to try to be better.”

She noticed that there were tears forming in Merrill’s eyes now and she moved to wipe them away, removing her hand from Merrill’s shoulder to gently brush her cheek.

“I think you would like something that smells of the fresh breeze of the ocean, would you not, Merrill?” She took some soaps from the drawer next to the bath. She sniffed a few before settling on a small blue soap from the drawer and handed it to her friend. “In another life you could have been an excellent pirate.”

Merrill smiled. “I knew a pirate, once. She was fierce and fearsome. I don’t think I’m anything like her.”

She laughed. “Perhaps not, but who knows what a few years with a dozen sailors would do to you?”

Merrill took a turn to rummage through all of the scented soaps, selecting one that was the palest shade of jade. “Here, take this. It reminds me of walking through the trees. That’s one thing I missed when I lived in Kirkwall—never nearly enough trees. I’d imagine you’d like something like that too.”

She smiled, taking the soap and drawing a deep breath in, inhaling the scent of pine and fresh air. It was amazing that such a scene could be captured into a bathing implement.

_Perhaps another one of Dorian’s enchantments._

She smiled. “It reminds me of home. As do you. I think we could be wonderful friends, Merrill. I’ll take the other bath, if you don’t mind.”

Merrill smiled, nodding. “I look forward to becoming your friend, too. And of course. The other bath!” The other woman laughed as she drew the curtain closed around her own tub, water rushing from the faucet.

She walked across the room, using the golden spout to draw water. It roared forth, steaming from the pipes. When the tub was half full, she could wait no longer. She drew the curtain, slipped out of the clothes she had been wearing since the day before, and allowed her body to slide into the warm water. Her entire body seemed to soften as she scrubbed off the dirt, sweat, and salt into the lightly scented water of the porcelain bath. She sighed, leaning her head back and thinking of home, all of the things she had lost, and the many more she had gained.

_I would not change it, if I had the chance. It sounds completely mad, but I would not have altered the events that brought me to this place. We may delve into hell and back yet again, but I would not have it another way._

* * *

Fully clothed, if in entirely too-warm garments, she and Merrill left the washroom to find that the group had gathered in the room just outside of Solas’s study. Apparently, while they had been enjoying the steam from the baths, the rest of them had awaken and managed to stumble into some sort of a meeting.

Of all of their companions, Dorian was the most chipper. She was surprised, given that he had probably drunk the most of all of them. Fenris was scowling in the corner—she guessed that someone had gotten the unfortunate job of waking him up. Hawke and Varric were sipping something that looked like tea, taken incredibly black. Cole was still missing.

“Ah, so our lovely Dalish women have decided to join us! How were your baths, ladies? Up to your specifications, I would hope.”

Merrill nodded. “Your entire manor is immaculate. Even nicer than Hawke’s!”

Hawke grunted and muttered something that sounded curiously like “at least I had to work for it”.

Dorian pretended not to hear, continuing. “We’ve assembled to discuss the approach we’re going to take to this entire operation. Our objectives are to find out what the Venatori are up to and to _apparently_ start a revolution. Always thinking small, our Inquisitor.”

She smiled. “You would have me no other way.”

He laughed. “Indeed, I would not. I, myself, am quite an adept revolutionary. I am proud to see that you’ve taken to following my illustrious footsteps.”

Solas nodded. “My agents in Tevinter suspect that the Venatori have uncovered an ancient elven artifact of considerable power. I was receiving reports from one of them up until we left for Kirkwall, but suddenly the communication stopped. I believe that something must have happened to them.”

Dorian frowned. “Then the Venatori will think we are here.”

Solas shook his head, frowning. “It is possible they may think that I am here, but my spies _do not_ speak when questioned. And my agents know nothing of the Inquisition’s plans. They only observe and report. I have many such in strategic locations around Thedas, as I have found that having more information is usually preferable to its dearth. But it does concern me that the Venatori were able to subdue and potentially eliminate one of my agents. That means we are likely up against powerful, dangerous mages. None of my people are untrained in the arcane arts.”

Dorian shrugged, the gesture as nonchalant as the words that followed. “It’s Tevinter. Everyone who’s anyone is a mage.”

Fenris scowled. “And everyone else is just chattel.”

Hawke turned to him, eyes narrowing. “Fenris. Let’s leave the accusations at least until after lunch.”

Varric laughed. “It’s after three, Hawke. If you haven’t eaten lunch yet, I don’t think you will today.”

Fenris’s frown softened, slightly. “If you believe that, then you don’t know Hawke.” He sighed. “I am sorry. I have a brutal headache. Continue please.”

She saw Hawke slip a potion into Fenris’s hand, which the man eagerly chugged. She saw the barest hint of a smile when he swallowed, gratitude in his eyes.

Solas cleared his throat. “As I was saying, my agents are _not_ novices. I think we should be incredibly careful about our next moves. The Venatori may be stronger than we originally presumed and I am certain they will not take kindly to our intrusion into their plans.”

She nodded, turning to Solas. “Caution would be a good mode of action in this particular situation. It sounds as though we’ll need to infiltrate their organization ourselves to glean more information about this artifact?”

Solas nodded. “Precisely. And there are four of us particularly well-equipped to such a mission.”

She looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

Dorian sighed. “He means you’ll pose as servants. _Elven_ servants. Household staff can go unnoticed throughout a manse and will likely have access to more secure areas and clandestine conversations than we could ever get from the outside. Elves in Tevinter are practically invisible.”

Fenris started. “I am not invisible. Have you seen me? My markings signal _ruthless killing machine,_ not quiet elven book keeper.”

Dorian smiled. “Well, that would be true, if they were visible.”

“What, do you want me to wear a robe all day? Tevinter is bloody hot, in case you haven’t noticed. That wouldn’t be suspicious at all.”

Dorian grinned wickedly. “You think for a moment that I didn’t invent an entire field of magic to change my appearance at will?”

Solas chucked. “ _Invent_ is a strong word, I would say. Though you have developed some interesting applications. For a human.”

“Well, in any case, I certainly improved upon the field. I can easily hide your markings and Merrill’s vallaslin if you keep these charms on your person.” He nodded to her and Solas. “You both may wish to change your appearances as well. Just to be safe.” Dorian held out a simple golden chain to each of the elves.

When he got to Solas, the elf shook his head. “I have no need for a charm. I can change my image without assistance.”

Dorian smiled. “I knew that you were just playing us with that ridiculous wardrobe. You are far too particular about everything to have been an impoverished wandering sage. What do you really look like, then?”

Solas smiled, conspiratorially. The air around him shimmered and Solas was replaced by his younger self, the one he had shown her in the Fade. His long brown hair was pulled back, the sides of his head shaved, almost reveling in the fact that his ears weren’t human. Beads were braided in the tendrils of his hair, tinkling softly as he moved. His ears were pierced multiple times and he wore a silver ring through his nose. There was no sign of Mythal’s vallaslin in this image. He was dressed simply, leathers pulled tight against his skin, a vest showing off the muscles of his exposed chest. He smiled still, bearing teeth ever so slightly reminiscent of fangs. The rebel god from the old stories made flesh. This Solas could very well have frightened Dalish children, sending them back to their parents well-behaved and demure. She loved Solas as he appeared normally, but this version had an otherworldly appeal. He seemed impetuous and _dangerous_ , as though he would burn the world as revenge for a slight.

_He really shouldn’t look like that when there are others around._

He glanced at her and caught her stare, his smile coy and delicious.

“Fen’Harel ma ghilana,” Merrill breathed.

“Indeed,” she added.

Dorian’s jaw seemed to drop off of his face. “Now, you’re just showing off. There’s no way you would pass as a simple servant looking like that.”

“Perhaps I don’t wish to seem a simple servant, then.” Solas’s voice had taken on a razor edge that she had never heard before. She hadn’t heard his voice when he took on this shape—he would always speak with his usual calming tones. His lines were sharper, the contrast stark against his surroundings. Everything about him cut.

_I can see why they made a god of him._

The air shimmered and they were left with a vision half between the two versions of Solas he had just displayed, his fingers laced behind his back. He kept the hair, but the piercings were gone and he seemed slightly older than he had the moment before. More reserved, calm, and composed. Someone wise and trustworthy. Not someone who would slit your throat as soon as you slept.

Dorian laughed, swallowing. “Now I see what interested you in him, Inquisitor. Well done. He cuts quite the figure when he so chooses. Does he appear to you like that... often?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll let you use your imagination.”

“Gladly.”

Varric snorted. “Should we give you all some space, then?”

Dorian waved a hand. “No, no, there is no time for such foolishness. Back to the plan. You all have disguises. I have an idea of where we may be best served. You’ll break into two groups and I want a mage in each one. That means Solas and our lovely Inquisitor will be the first and Merrill and Fenris the second.” He looked at them each in turn. “If you can manage that without forgetting _the mission_.”

She turned to Merrill and Fenris. “I didn’t know the two of you got on very well. From Varric’s book it seemed...”

Varric snorted. “Oh, Inquisitor, you actually believed that? The main points were true enough, but I’ve told you before. I’m a man of limitless embellishment.”

She cocked her head. “Oh?”

“Yeah, when I wrote it, I actually did so with permission from all interested parties, as hard as that may be to believe. And I allowed them to make requests, which I sometimes even honored. Anders, that’s the fellow who blew up a chantry and started the mage rebellion, asked that I do my best to exonerate everyone else lest they be accused of harboring a terrorist. I wrote the entire thing as though _none of us_ knew what was going on. We may not have known all of the details, but we all knew he was up to something. We’re dense, but not that dense.

“Fenris here asked that I make sure that he didn’t seem too friendly, lest people stop taking him seriously—reputation as a cold-blooded mage killer and all that. Truth is, he actually got along pretty well with _both_ Anders and Merrill towards the end, despite their propensity towards using magic. More than once he carried Merrill back home from the Hanged Man when she’d had _far too much_ to drink and I’m fairly sure the old softie watched over her until she woke up. I’m not saying it wasn’t rocky—there were some pretty big mountains to cross—but when you’re all putting your lives on the line, friendships tend to blossom in strange places.

“Hawke just asked that I made him look like he knew what he was doing. That one I mostly ignored.”

Hawke bristled, looking hurt.

“Aww, it’s okay, buddy. You can be a disaster waiting to happen, but you’re _my_ disaster waiting to happen.” Varric laughed, lightly punching his friend.

With a crash, the door to the study slammed open. They all turned to face the source of the disturbance.

They found a laughing Qunari bending down to cross the threshold. “You all started without me? I’d be offended if I hadn’t grown used to it already.”

“Bull,” she said, returning his easy smile. “It’s been a while.”

The Iron Bull crossed the room, putting an arm on her shoulder. “Boss. Long time no see. I heard it from a reliable source that you kids were getting up to trouble. Didn’t want to miss it.”

She glanced at Dorian and saw him soften.

_Ah yes. The budding romance._ She made a mental note to ask on it later.

Solas nodded. “We were discussing our plan of action. But first, I believe you should be introduced to our new companions. We have Hawke, whom you’ve met briefly, and his associates Merrill and Fenris.”

Merrill waved, smiling, and Fenris gave a curt nod.

Varric gestured to them. “Merrill’s the friendly one. Fenris is... decidedly less so.”

Bull nodded, extending a hand to each of them, his voice resounding like a clap of thunder. “Understood. They call me The Iron Bull. Head of a gang of mercenaries. Recently Tal-Vashoth. Don’t ask about it. Well, you can ask about the mercenaries. They’re my pride and joy. The Chargers, we call ourselves. No finer crew in all of Thedas.”

The corner of Fenris’s lips flicked upward ever so slightly as he turned to Varric. “I like this one.”

The dwarf laughed. “He grows on you.”

Hawke looked sideways towards his friend. “Hopefully doesn’t grow _too_ much or he’ll put a hole in the ceiling.”

“Ah, very funny. I could make light of your limited height just as easily. Don’t test me, little man.” Bull snorted.

Hawke was by no means small—after Dorian he was the next tallest in the room. Even so, Bull had at least a foot on the other man and peered down over all of them. She knew that Bull could probably pick them all up and toss them across the room like rag dolls, if he so desired. Luckily, he did not seem to.

Bull’s interjection seemed to silence Hawke. The Qunari motioned for Solas to continue, introductions out of the way.

“As I was saying, we, meaning the Inquisitor, Merrill, Fenris, and myself, intend to infiltrate Venatori households to glean more information about what they are planning, where they have the artifact stored, and what it may be used for.”

Bull nodded, sitting on a nearby couch to apparently assuage his new companion’s anxieties. “And which noble houses will you be spying on? Do you have any prospects?”

Dorian frowned. “Not yet, but I have allies amongst the other magisters who likely have some suspicions. It’s a small group of us, but we’re growing in power. We call ourselves the Lucerni—the champions of light. Bringing Tevinter back from the brink of madness and all that.”

Varric smiled, shaking his head. “Ah, I’m guessing you refer to my dear cousin, Mae?”

She cocked her head, confused. “You’re speaking of Maevaris Tilani? I was not aware you were related. The Inquisition gave her support against the Venatori before.”

He nodded. “Well, we’re not related by blood. Couldn’t very well be a dwarf and a magister both. ‘We’re not very good at magic as a race’ is an understatement. She married my cousin, rest his soul. He’s dead, but she’s still around causing trouble.”

Dorian nodded. “She’s one of the few magisters with sense. I have a deep admiration for her. She’ll have better information than I do—she was always more interested in politics than studying the arcane. We complement each other well. She can have her spies and favors and I can spend more time tinkering. It suits me better, anyway. Much less bloody. Potentially. Yes, we will need to speak with Mae. She’ll know where to start.”

Hawke frowned. “I believe that leaves the rest of us without anything to do. A waste of talent, if you ask me.”

Dorian tutted. “No, my eager friend. We will have _plenty_ to do. We’ll need you to pose as a mage seeking to acquire a large number of slaves. And Varric will be your negotiator. Get in with the slavers, find out where they are taking their prisoners.”

Hawke blanched, looking at Fenris. “I... can’t. No. I can’t do that.”

Fenris shook his head, placing his hand on Hawke’s shoulder. “No, you can.” The two men met eyes and she thought that Fenris would finally embrace his former lover. She was disappointed when he turned away. “I understand your concern for my feelings, but this is more important than that. If we can learn _where_ the slavers plan to attack, we can possibly prevent it.”

Dorian smiled. “Oh, we can do far more than that. We, or the Inquisition, rather, has strong allies in both Ferelden and Orlais. And the Marches owe Hawke a great debt. If we can find evidence of trafficking and apply the correct pressure in the right places, we can potentially convince the other nations to put a stop to it, choking off the market. The local governments currently look the other way when someone from a clan or a village goes missing and winds up being sold up north into slavery. We can force them to open their eyes and stare the problem in the face. It will not necessarily help those already in Tevinter, but we can stop further transgressions.”

Hawke sighed, still looking at Fenris. “Are you sure, Fen? I... I want you to know no matter what role I must take, I would never... I... I hate everything that was done to you.”

The other man smiled, wrapping his arms around Hawke, finally. Hawke stiffened visibly before relaxing into the embrace, pulling his own arms around the shorter man and pressing their foreheads together.

She found herself sighing, the tension that had been building for weeks relieved, finally.

“I know who you are, Hawke. I am keenly aware of what you can and cannot do. Do not fear for me.”

“I always will.”

Fenris kissed Hawke’s forehead, smiling softly. “You need not.” He stayed there on his toes, arms around Hawke.

_I had never thought that Fenris would be the one to shatter the wall between them. He’s a surprising person, altogether. They both are._

Fenris pulled away slowly, as though it pained him. Hawke was staring, still seemingly surprised by the sudden affection. His cheeks were reddening, and he rubbed his hand across his face, as though to wipe away his blush. It clearly didn’t work.

Hawke cleared his throat loudly. “Alright. I will go through with your plan, Dorian. It’s probably a terrible idea, but I will do it. Just let me know how to begin.”

Dorian smiled. “First, with lunch. Hawke had the truth of it, earlier. I haven’t eaten since last night. The Venatori aren’t going to go anywhere and we still need more information. Solas, if you don’t mind, try to press those spies of yours for any news they may have. I’ll do the same and request an audience with Maevaris, if you don’t mind me bringing her into the fold.”

She nodded. “If you trust her, Dorian, she has my trust as well.”

The Tevene mage smiled, nodding. “Excellent. It shall be done.”

Bull stood, moving towards Dorian. “And what shall I be doing, then?”

Dorian laughed. “Nothing is more feared in Tevinter than the Qunari. That and someone showing up to a party wearing the matching robes. You’ll need to press your old contacts to see what is going on with those following the Qun. It will be dangerous.” His expression grew serious. “You need not volunteer if you do not wish it.”

The Iron Bull laughed, wrapping a massive arm around the mage. “You forget that I _like_ dangerous. Getting to be a spy again, I relish the opportunity.”

Solas looked at them all in turn. “Well, it seems we are settled then. Each one of us should begin preparing for our respective roles. The fate of Thedas may depend upon it.”

“Luckily, we’re no strangers to saving the world. Go in strength, friends. We will all need it, soon enough.” She smiled at her companions as they filtered out of the room.

_It is immensely satisfying to assemble a team again. To launch ourselves into the fold with friends who would sacrifice themselves at a moment’s notice. I have missed them all, desperately._

Merrill was the only one who had stayed behind when the others had left.

“Is it time we explore the city, then?”

The other woman nodded, smiling, and they made their way out of Dorian’s home, only getting lost once or twice on the way to the front door.

* * *

They had walked for hours through the open air market of Minrathous, eventually covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the heat. It felt nothing like fall in the Tevinter city. They had each found suitable silks to dress in while at Dorian’s, as well as more simple attire for when they would be seeking work. She was reasonably certain that they were being charged more than the humans for every purchase they made, but coin had long stopped being an issue with the Inquisition at their back.

Eventually they settled on grabbing some food, their stomachs rumbling. She wanted something light and Merrill wanted something sweet, so they settled on pastries, hers filled with spiced sausage and Merrill’s coated in sugar. She grabbed a few extras for those back at the mansion. Solas in particular was prone to forgetting meals.

She found them a seat near the water, leaning up against a wall so they could see out over it. She wanted to watch the ships come into the port and imagine where they hailed from and where they headed off to. She leaned back, her leg dangling in the open air. Merrill joined her, cautiously sitting down. She handed the nicest looking of the pastries she had bought to the other woman and Merrill chomped down, happily.

She didn’t have time to sink her teeth into her own before she heard something whistle directly over her head and grabbed the ledge, trying to prevent herself from jumping upwards. Quite glad she had maintained her position, she found an arrow embedded deeply within the wall, less than six inches above where her head had been. Her hand reflexively moved towards her hilt, but found it empty. Dorian had cautioned them against openly carrying weapons in the city. Elves with blades attracted unwanted attention and they needed no more of that.

_Not that I’d be much good in a fight without my blade hand, anyway. I_ really _must have that fixed._

She scanned the crowd, but did not see anyone with a bow at short range. Their assailant must have shot with a longbow. Fortunately, they did not seem to aim particularly well. She was about to pull Merrill away from the landing when she noticed that there was a piece of parchment tied to the arrow’s shaft, carefully rolled.

She untied the crimson ribbon and found a dirty yellowed parchment, on which was hastily drawn a sketch of a lady, standing with one arm between her legs and the other hand making a ‘V’ with her index and middle fingers. The woman in the image stuck her tongue in between the two fingers in a rather rude gesture.

It was signed ‘Your fave RJ, with love.’

She smiled as a figure with a deep cowl approached them, their supposed assailant. The person was clearly a woman, short of stature, slim, and ready for a fight.

Her hood dropped to reveal a shock of dirty blonde hair, cut short around her ears. Sera’s lips were turned up into a wry grin.

“Hey there Inky! Sorry ‘bout that, forgot the note’d weigh down the shot a touch when I sent it off. My ‘pologies and all that. But, that’s not why I’m here.” Her mouth was upturned into a petulant little pout. “I can’t believe you were going to stick it to some noble pricks and you didn’t even _send me an invite!_ I had to ask ol’ Josie herself were you all were off to, and she only gave me some words. Namely, ‘discrete’ and ‘you are not’. I was right pissed, yeah?”

She laughed. “Sera, you _know_ that you’ve been hard to track ever since you’ve caught up with the Jennies. It wasn’t for lack of trying that we didn’t send for you. Though Josephine probably has the right of it, I _do_ greatly enjoy your company, but you aren’t exactly well known for keeping quiet.”

“Did you forget that I am an esteemed member of a secret club myself?” Sera seemed hurt, but she turned to Merrill. “Who’s this then?” Her grin turned wicked as she turned back to face the Inquisitor. “Oh, Inky, if I had known you were _open to girls_ , I would’ve tried _much harder._ Thought you had it for the old bald guy, but... If you’re willing, I am.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes and glancing at a shocked looking Merrill. “Sera, this is Merrill. Merrill, Sera.”

Sera extended her hand, but when Merrill reached for it, she pulled it away suddenly. “Ah, I’m just kidding. Here.” She offered again and allowed the other woman to take it. “You’re pretty, for an elf. You’re on the date with Inky, here?”

Merrill seemed confused. “No, we… We’re just friends. Wait, and are you not... of elvish descent yourself?”

Sera snorted. “What gave it away, then? These old things?” She scrunched her face, wiggling her ears. “Been thinking ‘bout getting them hacked off for a bit now. Lot of trouble, these. People here don’t like elves, I’ve noticed. Even less than I do. Odd place for a reunion, Quizzie.”

She sighed. “Sera, we should get you back to Dorian’s. He can explain everything. It’s not safe to speak of it here.”

The younger woman smiled, throwing her hood back up. “Good to see you were easy to convince! I can be of a lot of use, ya know, especially when it comes to stickin’ it to baddies. Should’ve asked from the start, really. But I’ll forgive you this time, I guess. Won’t be so easy on you next time. Maybe I won’t shoot _above_ your head.” Sera laughed.

“Come on, Merrill. We should take Sera back before she gets into trouble. Sorry to cut our trip a bit short.”

She took a bite from her roll as they began the long walk back to Dorian’s estate. It was more spiced than she was used to eating in Ferelden and she found herself fanning her mouth as the others giggled at her misfortune. Eventually Sera seemed to take pity upon her and handed her a flask. She gulped down the water, but it seemed to only make the burning worse.

She blinked through her tears, stifling a laugh. “Let’s. Just. Go.”

* * *

Once her face had returned to a normal shade, she opened the door to the Solas’s study to find him sitting at his desk, knees drawn against his chest. He stood quickly when he saw her, setting his pen back into the ink pot and stepping towards her.

“You seemed lost in thought. I am surprised you noticed me come in. I brought some food in case you had forgotten to eat again.” She held her arm out showing him her spoils and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She found herself holding the sack away from him to avoid getting any melted butter on his tunic.

“So thoughtful, vhenan. Thank you. I hadn’t noticed the time pass. Would you join me for supper? I know we’ve not spent an evening in our room, but I took the liberty of exploring it while you were away. There’s a dining table on the balcony—the view is quite pleasant actually.”

She nodded. “I would like nothing more.”

He led her from his study, taking her hand in his own. She felt a gentle warmth rise in her chest.

_He acts so free, now. Unbound from all of the troubles that kept him closed off from me. A welcome change, but a strange one. I will not take it for granted._

He prepared the table for them, setting out formal dinnerware. She tried to stop him, telling him that it was only a few pastries and that there was no need, but he would not be swayed.

“You spoil me with your kindnesses, Solas. I simply wished to spend time with you. There is no need to go to all this...”

He slipped towards her, pressing a finger to her lips, silencing her. “I appreciate the thought, but it’s no trouble. Allow me my small eccentricites. I would dote on you.”

Her mouth curled to the side in a sideways smile. Shaking her head slightly she shrugged. “If you wish, then I am in no place to stop you.”

He pulled a bottle of wine, from somewhere, or more likely from thin air, pouring out two measured glasses. Not a drop over what would have been considered proper. He handed the crystal goblet to her and she took it from him, putting it to her lips.

He laughed. “You really should wait a moment. It tastes better that way.”

She rolled her eyes as they both took their seats. “Waiting is for those who have an eternity to do so.”

“I do not have an eternity, not any longer. A moment of patience for enhanced pleasure is a transaction I would easily make.”

She nodded. “As you’ve mentioned, before.” She smiled, thoughtful. “Solas, what did you plan to do with eternity when you had it? It seems like quite a gift.”

His expression soured, a frown appearing suddenly. “Eternity is no blessing to those who live their lives in chains.”

She sighed. “Yes, that is a fair point. You no longer wear chains, my love. What would you spend all of time doing if it were given to you _now_?”

He thought, his grimace receding slowly. A few moments passed before he spoke again, softly. “I would speak with you, until there were no words left unsaid between us. And then I would hold you in my arms until the earth was rent in two around us, thankful for your embrace as the coming storm wipes away all memory of us and all who existed in this painful world.”

She smiled, raising her eyebrows. “You should have been a poet.”

He laughed. “Who is to say that I wasn’t? Pages and pages of lovely prose, lost amongst the ruins of ancient civilizations. In all of time, there shall not be another who can change the very nature of the heavens with a word.”

She rolled her eyes, kissing him. “Now you’re showing off.”

He took her chin his between his thumb and forefinger and his eyes met her own. “Admit it. You’re relishing this.”

She winked, trying hard not to smile. “Never.”

He leaned towards her, and pressed his lips ever so gently against her ear, his words a whisper tickling against her skin. “You _enjoy_ our conversations. You _live_ for them. I see it in your eyes, the way they sparkle when they chance to alight upon me.”

She laughed, pushing him away. “If we’re in the mood for confessions, I’d like for you to tell me how you absolutely _melt_ at my touch. Like you’ve never felt the sensation before. Even simple, aromantic actions are enough to send you into a blind dizziness if they happen to involve my body touching yours. I knew that you liked me long before we ever kissed. You would act as though lightning had struck you dumb if my hand so much as brushed against your skin. I could feel the longing exude from you if I passed just a hair too close. You have an admission of your own to make, Solas. And I would have it from you.”

He laughed, running his hands through her hair. “You have successfully changed the subject without giving anything. Bravo. You had _nearly_ outwitted the master of subterfuge himself.” He gave her a flourish, miming a bow as best he could from his seated position. “As a reward, I will take your bait. Every time you touch me, I die a tiny death. My mind rebels against the very notion of your existence—reason tells me that a spirit so flawlessly perfect should have no right to exist—even while my body sings your praises. It’s quite the feeling, to be caught in such a dichotomy. I am still stunned that you could be here, real, and not just a particularly vivid imagining of mine.”

She sighed, breathlessly, leaning across the table to shorten the distance between them. “Oh, I am _very_ real. And you’re right, I love it when you show off. Don’t stop on my account.”

He laughed. “I knew it.” He drew her into a deep kiss, his hands entwined in her hair, pulling it loose. “And I never shall. Not as long as the sun is above our heads and the earth beneath our feet.”

They stood together, facing each other, their food and wine abandoned on the table, untouched. They had temporarily forgotten all hunger but that which they felt for each other.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, taking her left hand in his right, swaying slowly. “We haven’t danced since Halamshiral. And that was a stolen little thing, at the end of a very draining evening.”

She frowned. “No, we haven’t. We had other concerns, I’m afraid.”

He took his hand from its place at her side and gently stroked her cheek, his touch lingering at her chin. “We will always have other distractions. That does not mean we shouldn’t make time for more pleasant endeavors. Besides, you don’t really know _how_ do dance.”

She looked at him wryly. “That’s unfair. Josephine put me through _hours_ of lessons so that I didn’t make a fool of myself in front of the Empress. I did perfectly satisfactorily at the Winter Palace.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, yes, that is certainly true. You were the talk of the evening, though I believe that had more to do with your station than your dancing prowess or lack thereof.” His eyes had grown mischievous, grin tilting ever so slightly. “I wasn’t talking about the floating about that the Orlesians call dancing anyway.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Ah, so you’d have me dance like one of your pretty Elvhen lovers, yes? Is that what you’d like of me?”

“I thought you’d relish the opportunity to learn more of your history. Perhaps I was wrong...” He began to turn away, back towards their table of food

She stopped him. “No, now you’re teasing me. I would absolutely like to learn, if you don’t mind me stepping on your feet. What’s different about _your_ dancing anyway?”

He scoffed, turning back to her. “The dances the nobles of your time prefer are completely neutered. All of the sensuality has been stripped away for the sake of decorum.” He lifted her hand, twirling her outwards from him, before pulling her back and leaning her into his arms. He braced her back with his hands, leaning downwards to steal a kiss from her lips. He lifted her gently to her feet, back to where she had started, though considerably closer than a typical dance would have allowed.

He laughed, kissing her forehead. “You’re a natural. I’m honestly quite surprised. I thought you would be unwilling to follow.”

She returned his easy laughter, gazing into his eyes. “You’re not wrong about that. It took nearly a month of lessons before I stopped trying to fight for control with my dance partner.”

“I knew it. You by nature a leader. You know, in Arlathan, men did not always lead the dances. Once you are more comfortable, I can teach you some such. It’s always easier to learn the steps if you’re being led, but sometimes I enjoy allowing another to take control.”

“Is this a metaphor, or are we still speaking of dancing?”

He laughed, kissing her deeply. “That, my love, is entirely up to you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels so wonderful to be writing regularly again! I am so excited for what's next. 
> 
> Always feel free to say hello on [Tumblr](https://midnightprelude.tumblr.com/)! I love new friends. You can send me prompts and suggestions, or just say hi! <3
> 
> Ma serranas, as always.


	13. Straining the Bounds of Wisdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to put this warning immediately when I posted, but this chapter will hint at what I would consider rape happening in the very distant past, despite being “consented to” by both parties. 
> 
> I do not discuss the situations in detail, and will not at any point in the fic. I may, however talk about the effects that these situations have had on certain characters and their relationships.
> 
> Just wanted to put that warning out there for anyone who may wish to skip down to a few paragraphs before the first line break.
> 
> Past slavery is also discussed.

She was beginning to recognize the telltale signs of the Fade. When looking directly at something, it seemed to hold its shape physically, but everything in the periphery seemed to blur just slightly. It was subtle, but she had gotten used to recognizing the effect. She had no doubt that she’d soon find Solas; he always seemed able to find her here. She still wasn’t sure how moving through the Fade worked, precisely. They had fallen asleep together, but that didn’t mean they would start their dreaming in the same place. She still wasn’t able to distinguish locations in the Fade as Solas could—they all seemed empty and seemed to melt to her consciousness, creating structures based on her thoughts. It was little like the waking world, which would continue unperturbed if no souls passed by.

_If rain falls in a forest and no one is there to feel it... Or something like that, anyway._

In the Fade, perception was more important than the actual object being perceived. A thought could turn a harmless spirit into a clawing demon. In the Fade, ideas had as much of an impact as actions, and thus they needed to be carefully guarded.

In its current form, she was walking through a forest, like one she would have seen in the Emerald Graves. That place was so full life for a location where so many had died. The area was as lush as she had remembered from the waking world, but she saw no monuments to Andraste, no celebrations of the massacre of her people.

_Perhaps the Exalted Marches didn’t occur here. Or maybe they just haven’t happened_ yet.

“Hello, vhenan,” Solas’s voice was soft and she heard his words before seeing the man himself.

He stepped from behind a tree to reveal he was dressed in the fashion she had first met him in, a roughspun tunic over stitched green trousers. He held his hand out to her as she stepped through the underbrush towards him.

“Do you happen to remember the Spirit of Wisdom that we freed from its bondage?” His brows were drawn and his features held a solemnity that she had not encountered since they met in Crossroads after two years apart. It seemed so long ago, but had hardly been longer than a month since they had reunited. Spending so much time together in dreaming may have had something to do with that sensation.

_How could I forget Wisdom? Bound against its will and straining against its tethers, his friend had morphed into something unrecognizable._

“Of course I do. It was your friend, before it was turned against its purpose.” She took the hand he had offered her, her feet crunching against the dirt. “I thought I would lose you then, after it was gone. I did not think you’d return.”

He pulled her closer, facing him, and pressed a kiss to her brow. “Thank you for helping me. And for understanding. Not many would have.”

“I am sorry it happened.” She pulled him into a gentle embrace, head against his chest. “I hated to see such a beautiful creature destroyed.”

He nodded, frowning. “Yes, it was painful for me as well. Spirits of Wisdom are so rare... To have one killed for such a foolish reason was truly devastating.”

His eyes met hers again and she tried to discern the thoughts swirling behind his crystal gray eyes.

_Pain, remorse, regret, perhaps. He is no stranger to these feelings. But, am I projecting, or is there a hint of hope as well?_

“Spirits are unusual, in that they do not die in the sense that mortal creatures do. Their _concept_ may die, but their energy will return back into the Fade. With enough time, it is possible that something new will return to take the old spirit’s place. It is an intriguing cycle. Spirits obtain power by the intensity and number of mortals that meet that purpose. Thus, more aggressive spirits such as Rage and Vengeance are common during war.”

She nodded. “And Pride?”

He smiled, ever so slightly. “Pride is common as well, especially in a civilization at its height. When learning flourishes, Wisdom becomes more common. With Wisdom often comes Pride. They are intimately related.”

“Were you always Pride, or were you something else before?”

He looked at her, confused. “I don’t understand to what you refer.”

She looked upwards, thinking. “Can a spirit of Wisdom _become_ a spirit of Pride?”

He nodded. “Yes, of course. I was not, however. I began my existence as my name suggests.”

“That is interesting, as you seem to seek out wisdom at every opportunity.”

“There is a reason why I took a body. It was becoming hard for me to maintain my original purpose. My pride sparked my thirst for knowledge—I wanted to know everything about the People. That quest resulted in reading more, seeing more, learning more. What I learned inevitably changed me. Unlike other spirits, who tend to forget things that they discover if they are not related to their purpose, I began to remember. And what I had found enraged me. Arlathan was rife with injustice, corruption, and fear. I was at risk of turning into a demon.”

With a wave of his hand, he conjured a small, golden ball of light like the one he had shown her previously. It shifted colors rapidly, writhing. Whenever it seemed to settle upon a form distinct enough to discern, it had already changed again. A wolf, a bat, lightning, a flame, a tree, a waterfall. The image altered so quickly she hardly had time to take in the details.

And suddenly it stilled, the shadow of a woman appearing before the orb, reaching out a hand and calming its fury.

“Mythal found me, flailing and uncertain. She sensed my pain, my fear.”

The woman waved a hand, extending it towards the glowing light when she had finished the complicated maneuver.

“She took me into her home and helped me rediscover my purpose—and it required me to take on a physical body or be destroyed. She only requested one small thing for her assistance during my dire need and I gave it gladly, binding myself to her.”

When he finished speaking, the light began to _solidify_ into the shape of a man. From the light emerged a hand searching for Mythal’s outstretched fingers. She pulled him into existence from nothing but pure energy, it seemed. He knelt before her, staring into her face. She rested a palm on his newly crafted forehead. Glowing blue, she withdrew her hand, leaving behind her marking. A vallaslin, like the one _she_ had once worn, like the one Solas had in his vision in the Deep Roads.

The markings he had told her represented bondage.

It felt like she had taken a blow to the chest.

_Mythal saved him and all she demanded was his slavery? And he thinks that was a fair trade?_

“Solas, I am sorry.” She wrapped her arms around him. “That... is an unspeakable cruelty.”

He shook his head. “You misunderstand. I owed her something, so I gave what little I had. I was grateful to serve.”

She looked at him, her lips drawn and brow furrowed, shaking her head. “Nobody, not even Mythal, has a right to exchange good deeds for someone’s freedom. Did it cost her anything to help you?”

He turned his face from her, obscuring his eyes. “No, she merely had to guide me. I did the rest.”

“Does that not seem wrong to you?”

He shook his head. “Wrong and right did not factor into the equation. Only duty. I had no other choice. Once made and agreed to, I honored the decision.”

She cupped his face in her hand, her eyes wide. “Did she hurt you?”

He shook his head again. “No. It was not like that.”

She tilted her head, still meeting his eyes. “You showed me that she sent you to the Deep Roads alone to retrieve a Titan’s heart for her. It nearly killed you—I saw how much blood you lost—saw the creature _embed itself_ in your body. Had she not arrived, you would have certainly not made it back to the surface.”

“It was necessary. I will not say more.” He turned from her, sighing.

“Solas, you also said you were intimate with her. Was that before or after she lifted your vallaslin?”

He still would not meet her gaze. “Both.”

“Do you not think that wrong?”

“I see no problem with it. I was willing.”

“And what if you hadn’t been? How would she have reacted?”

“I... Truthfully do not know.”

“If our positions were shifted and I wore _your_ vallaslin, would you send me off to my potential death alone? Would you choose to sleep with me, knowing that I would not have the power to refuse you?”

He seemed aghast at the very notion. “No, I would never... I could never _own_ you.”

She nodded, her eyes downcast. “Then you are better than them all. Even Mythal.”

He did not respond, but his body seemed to slump slightly. He moved to lean against a fallen tree, his back against the ancient graying bark, hands rubbing his temples.

“We need not speak of this anymore, if it pains you. Can you tell me how the vallaslin work, then? They weren’t just decorations, were they?”

He shook his head, staring at some spot behind her. “No, they were not. There were a few uses. The most obvious is to mark the servants of each god so that no misunderstandings could occur. The old magic allowed other purposes as well: mainly punishment and storage.”

“The punishment?”

“I never felt it myself, but I know that the marks would burn fiercely. Like pouring liquid fire directly into your skin. Some of the other evanuris used them for this in my presence on their own servants. It caused the victim to writhe upon the ground, often blood foaming from their mouths. Given enough time in this state, they would die. It could throw people from consciousness if not quite long enough to kill them, and sometimes they wouldn’t awaken for days. There was a rumor that Falon’Din liked to treat his highest-ranked servants in this manner. It was said that he learned the precise signs that would ensure that the slave could no longer speak, but would still be able to retain the rest of their functions. I’m not sure of the validity, but if I am honest, I have never heard one of his followers speak a word.

“But possibly the more diabolical use of the blood writing was the one I haven’t yet spoken of. The evanuris could use their followers to power their magic, draining it from their very spirits of their servants. Some of the worst would cast spells that would wipe out an entire village. That was why the evanuris were formidable in the first place. Before I came into my body, the elves sold themselves to the most formidable mages in exchange for safety. From what, I was never certain. Something external from the supposed gods themselves. I was not as cognizant then as I was when I took my form.”

She stiffened looking directly at him. The air seemed to chill around them as she fought for words.

“It’s... worse than blood magic. What they did to you. To... all of them.”

“Hopefully you can understand now why I wished to remove yours. They terrify me, frankly. To know that my people... that the Dalish _celebrate_ the practice, even after all I had sacrificed… And that they thought _me_ no better than a demon… And think of them as…” He shook his head, sighing.

She took her place at his side, against the ancient oak. “Solas, it is not your fault.” She did not know how to comfort him from his deepest hurt. “You did everything you could. You still do. Let that be enough.”

He took her hand, still not meeting her eyes. “You must think me a great fool. I should have never left them to themselves. They needed a leader and I left them with nothing but ruin and broken dreams.”

“The only thing I find foolish about you is your complete reluctance to forgive yourself. I see it in your eyes whenever we speak of the past. You place all of the blame of an entire populace on your own shoulders. It’s vanity to believe such an idea—you must realize this. Yes, you are powerful, but you were not the only column holding up our people. Too many others collapsed to continue to sustain the structure. Do not place all of the burden upon yourself.”

“ _Vhenan_. You were not there.”

“Blame me, then, if it helps.”

He looked at her curiously. “How could the fall of Elvhenan be attributed in any way to you?”

“I wasn’t there to stop it.” She shrugged. “Clearly, if I had been there, I would have singlehandedly been able to save the People.”

He shook his head, eyebrows raised. “That’s preposterous.”

“I am formidable am I not? Resourceful? It would not have been the first time I saved the world. Who is to say I couldn’t have done it then at any of those crossroads, had I _only_ endeavored to be born?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I am only showing you your reflection, Solas. If I am to be accused of silliness, you are just as guilty.” She moved her hand to his face, his skin soft underneath her fingertips. “Are you alright, though? We can work through this. I am here and I will not go anywhere, no matter what vile things you say of yourself.”

“Thank you. I… I will be fine. Thank you for your words. I still cannot believe that you can look me in the eyes and confess your love, after you know what I’ve done.”

“Solas!” Her hands moved to her hips almost involuntarily. “I am going to change the subject. Tell me more of the vallaslin.”

He nodded, seeming relieved with the topical shift. “What would you know?”

“Could ours be used by the evanuris still? The Dalish markings?”

He sat still, lost in thought. “I... am not sure. The markings are the same, but... With the Veil in place, it is hard to say what would be possible. I would imagine that if the vallaslin could be used in such a way, it would be less efficient than when the evanuris made the marks themselves, even if the Veil were to fall. I have little basis for this idea though—it has never been tested, of course.”

“Why would you want to bring that back to the world?”

He turned to face her, expression clearly pained. “I never wished for the _evanuris_ to return. But the ancient elves, the ones I did not manage to free... They never had the chance to live. And even the ones I _did_ manage to save, if you can even call it that, eventually had their descendants sold back into the slavery I had freed their ancestors from. An endless cycle that I hoped to break with the reintroduction of magic. I thought I could build a better world.” He laughed bitterly. “A prideful thought, if there ever was one.”

“I wish you had told me of this before.” She leaned towards him, pressing her forehead to his. “Perhaps I could have done something to help. I might have understood.”

“Do not blame yourself, vhenan. There are many things I would wish to share with you. Given enough time, you will hear them all. This is not why I brought you here, however. I _do_ have other things to show you, here in the Fade this evening. You were right earlier. Let us not speak of the past for now. It brings too much pain.”

He took her hand, standing slowly, leading her through the forest. He seemed to know precisely where they were going. Perhaps he was even shaping it himself. It was within his powers to do so.

They reached a cliff, overlooking a stirring river. He picked up a smooth pebble and in a moment of recklessness, tossed it over the side of the bluff. She watched it fall smoothly through the air, landing with a splash in the water below.

“I met one of my dearest friends, here in this very spot, many millennia ago. Before I took on a permanent body, becoming Solas.” His eyes had taken on a faraway look, as though he was reliving an ancient memory. “It came to me as I was tossing rocks, trying to see how far I could throw them. I used to be better at such things back then.” He smiled, ever so slightly, in reminiscence.

“Wisdom?” she guessed.

He nodded, his smile widening. “Why, yes. It came asking questions. What were my motivations? What _precise_ type of rock was I throwing? What river was below our feet? Where I came from? My name? Endless and ceaseless interrogations that, as a completely different type of spirit, I had never thought to ask. I had no answers for it. But it made me begin to think. And once I started, I could hardly stop.”

“So, I have Wisdom to thank for you?”

He smiled, cocking his head. “Thank perhaps, or curse. Depending upon the time in which you are speaking.”

“I would thank her profusely, if she were here.”

_The way he looks, standing there against the backdrop of the rolling hills, I would grab him and kiss him right here. But I do not think he is done explaining, and he’s not easily interrupted before he’s reached the end of a point._

He held out his arms, smiling freely. “Then you should. In person.”

Her brow furrowed and she looked curiously at him. “Wisdom died. I saw it.”

“Death is not so simple for any of us, especially not spirits.” He laughed. “She has been wanting to meet you.”

She looked about, seeing nothing. “She?”

He nodded, laughing, his voice echoing through the air. “Do not be afraid, lethallan. I have brought a friend.”

A slender figure stepped out from behind the trees, one arm dangling behind her back and the other wrapped around it, as though she was embarrassed to be seen out in the open. Her hair was black as obsidian, shining against the sunlight. Half was short tight against her scalp, the other hanging down to her shoulder in loose curls. She smiled timidly.

She gasped.

“Solas, she…”

He nodded. “She took on a body. It is still strange for her”

The woman approached, slowly, silently.

She found herself mimicking the movement until the woman was but a hair away. She wrapped her arms around the former spirit, holding her tightly. She smelled of a thousand places at once: the ocean, the earth, the forests, the rocks, the rain. Like she had seen the entire world and took a tiny piece from each place she visited with her.

“Nuvas ema ir’enastela, lethallan. Thank you for helping him find himself.”

Wisdom nodded, returning the embrace. “Ara melava son’ganem. I would have had him no other way. Thank you for freeing me.”

She looked up at the spirit she had thought died on the Exalted Plains. Solas’s oldest friend. His reason for existing. “I could do no else for a friend in need.”

Wisdom turned to Solas, smiling. “I think it will be nice to have another friend.”

“Have you given thought to what you would like us to call you?”

“I would choose something simple, in honor of another who made the same choice when the option was given. My name will be Silea.”

_Wisdom._

Silea stood smiling, looking at each of them in turn. She noted the conspicuous lack of vallaslin against the dark complexion of her face.

She smiled.

_Solas was incorrect when he insisted that Mythal was the best of the evanuris. That title belongs and always has belonged to him, he’s just too much a fool to realize it. If only I could tell the Dalish that their shunned god is the most noble of the entire pantheon, make them see. I’d be thought a madwoman, but I’d be more right than they’d know._

* * *

When she opened her eyes, Solas was beside her, stretching his arms out above his head. He hadn’t worn a shirt to bed due to the heat and she found herself enjoying the way his muscles contracted as he moved. He was slender, yet clearly strong. She wouldn’t have known it based on the clothes he preferred to wear, loose and ill-fitting garments more designed to conceal than reveal, but he was _incredibly_ good looking under all of that roughspun.

She stifled a laugh, imagining him in something tight-fitting. Perhaps they should go shopping together. Maybe bring along Dorian for advice.

“Something funny?” He turned to her, eyebrows raised, quizzical look on his face.

She hadn’t noticed he had been watching her, watching him. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“The look on your face betrays you. What were you thinking of?” He leaned in to kiss her. Once their lips met, all thoughts of anything else fell away and suddenly she was floating. She pulled him closer, her tongue exploring the inside of his mouth.

Then she remembered the time and that her breath probably smelled horrible and she wondered how it was physically possible that his did not. It was entirely unfair.

Laughing again, she pulled away.

“ _What?”_ He smiled, slender fingers running through her hair. “You _cannot_ keep laughing like that without allowing me to share in the joke, otherwise I’ll think it’s _me_ that you’re finding so entertaining.”

Her cheeks reddened and she longed to change the subject, but knew that if she tried, he would just continue to press further. He was as stubborn as she and would not allow the matter to rest until he had the truth from her.

“I was just imagining you wearing something that actually flattered your body. And then it somehow turned into tight fitting leather, and, I don’t know...”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, is that all? Do you _also_ detest my choice of attire as all of your companions seem to?”

“Well, detest is perhaps a bit strong of a word...”

He groaned. “I see. You’d prefer if I dressed a bit more like Dorian?”

The thought was nearly as hilarious as him in all leather. She could almost see it, a much too large collar around Solas’s neck, his body draped in gaudy fabrics. It was much too _much._ She couldn’t contain her laughter any longer. “I don’t think that would suit you well, either.”

“At least we can agree on that. What would you prefer I wear, then?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes, clearly.”

“I would prefer if you spent far more time wearing far less.”

It was his turn to blush. “Oh, I hardly think that appropriate...”

“Since when have I been one for decorum?” She positively purred.

A thump on the balcony outside their room made her start. They both turned to see the cause of the disturbance.

Wisdom, _Silea,_ she reminded herself, was standing on the outside of the glass, waving.

She gathered the sheet around her—she had not slept in much clothing either—and approached the doorway, allowing the elven woman to enter.

“Good morning. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Silea looked slightly embarrassed at the intrusion.

Solas stood from the bed, brushing himself off. “No, we were just getting up. Good morning, Silea. It is good to see you in this world. It has been entirely too long.”

She turned to the tanned woman. Her features looked faintly Antivan, but she wasn’t sure if that was on purpose. Her accent was similar to Solas’s, with no distinct connection to any land of their world. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting in the antechamber, we will get ready and then we can introduce you to everyone. It’ll just be a few minutes.”

Silea smiled. “There are more to meet? How many people do you know?”

She laughed. “Sometimes it feels like entirely too many. They will like you, I think. Dorian and Merrill in particular will likely be fascinated. And you’re not even the only spirit in our companionship! I’m sure Cole will want to speak with you as well.”

She shook her head, smiling. “I have so many questions.”

Solas laughed. “Luckily, most of our companions love nothing more than hearing the sound of their own voices. I’m sure they would be more than happy to answer anything you would like to know. And they’ll have a plethora of questions of their own, I would imagine.”

They hurriedly dressed, Solas decidedly _not_ conjuring a tight-fitting leather ensemble, much to her dismay. After a few minutes, they met up with Silea, who was studying a painting in the room just outside of where they slept.

“They have some of the details wrong here. Actually, quite a few.”

It was an Andrastian image, the Bride of the Maker herself standing tall with her inner council. She loosely resembled a Tevinter magister.

“First of all,” Silea continued, “Andraste was human, but she did not resemble the Tevene. She was of the Alamarri, her hair red and skin pale, not dark and tanned. And Shartan is _completely_ missing from this image and he would _not_ have been away from her side. He was her Champion, after all he did to bring the Tevinter elves to her cause. It is a mockery of history to have him erased.”

She smiled. “It will be good to have you with us, Silea, but I would not say that loudly to anyone from Tevinter.”

Silea seemed confused. “Would they not know the truth?”

Solas frowned. “It is often far easier for men to twist the truth to suit their desires than to listen to the harsh pangs of reality. Something you will learn, in time. Let us go, we have introductions to make.”

The three of them entered Dorian’s study to find the rest of their party situated inside. As soon as they entered with Silea, Cole materialized beside her, clearly studying the woman.

Varric turned towards them. “Who do we have here, Inquisitor?”

With an air of drama, she swept her arm across the room. “I searched the Fade for those who could aid in our quest, and have brought forth a new ally from the heavens themselves.”

Dorian groaned. “Maker help us, you’re even starting to _sound_ like him.”

Sera cackled, smirking at Solas. “Lay off her, elfy, she’s already weird enough without you going off and making her sound even _more_ barmy.”

Solas grinned slightly, eyebrows raised. “Better she sound like me than like _you_ , Sera. Nobody would be able to understand her.”

She huffed. “I’m right _here_ you know.”

Sera seemed nonplussed, content to continue to bandy insults with Solas. “At least I don’t spend half the day yapping nonsense and the other yapping in elvish, which might as well be nonsense for all the good it does us.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fenedhis lasa.”

Sera’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve given me that tripe before.” The rogue turned to her. “What’s he mean? You’re an elfy elf. What’s he on about?”

Solas answered for her. “’Lasa’ means ‘to give’, as you’re curious.” He chuckled. “’Fen’, of course, means ‘wolf’.”

Sera nodded, “You’re leaving bits out, elfy. Get talking.”

The left corner of his mouth raised slightly, his eyes sparkling. “’-dhis’ is an interesting term, which here refers to...”

She cleared her throat. “Penis. He means penis. There, I said it.”

Sera’s eyes widened.

“That’s not all, though. He’s _Fen’Harel._ Also known as the Dread _Wolf_. The rough translation, given the context, is ‘go suck my dick’.” She continued, giving Solas a stern look. “Was that worth it for you?”

Sera looked slowly between the two of them, her face a mixture of shock and awe. “Wait. You mean... Cranky bald elfy boy said...”

She nodded.

Sera erupted in a peal of laughter, nearly falling from her chair. “Oh, that’s just friggin _brilliant_. _Fenedhis lasa_. And here I thought there was nothing to learn from you people.” She turned back to Solas, trying to talk between bursts of laughing. “Any other choice phrases I should know about?”

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “I think you’ve learned quite enough for one day.”

“Fenedhis lasa, Bull.”

The Iron Bull shook his head. “I would if he was willing.”

“ _Really now?_ You all are children.” Solas’s expression was pained. If he rolled his eyes any harder, they were likely to fall from his head completely.

Sera grinned. “Don’t forget, dirty elf man, you were the one who said it first. Should be proud.” She flipped over, laying her back on her seat, legs dangling in the air. “I’m learning _ellllllllllvish_!”

He shook his head, sighing. “Why do I even try?”

Varric coughed, and they turned to him. “I don’t believe you’ve introduced us to your friend yet.”

She nodded, trying to smother her grin. “This is Silea. She was a spirit of Wisdom.”

Dorian seemed surprised. “Like Cole? I thought it was a rare occurrence, but we’ve already met _two_ such people.”

She decided not to correct him and reveal that, in fact, they knew three.

Varric grinned. “Allies seem to flock towards you like mice towards cheese. Nice to meet you, Sil. Welcome to our band of misfits.”

Silea smiled, extending her hand towards him. “Thank you. I am very eager to learn more about you.”

“Yes, yes. We’ll have time for all that later. Now we should speak on the _mission_ we’ve all agreed to be a part of. I’ve managed to adjust the specifications of the sending crystal I gave to the Inquisitor. The modification you made to it at Skyhold, Solas, was of particular interest.”

“Glad to have been of help.”

“With Varric’s assistance, I managed to secure ample supplies for each of us to have a crystal of our own. The original design has been modified to be more... subtle.” In his hand was a dozen rings with a small pink crystal embedded in the surrounding gold. “With these, we should each be able to maintain communication with all of the others. You need only think of that person, or multiple people, and a direct line of communication will be opened.”

She took a ring, flipping it over in her fingers. “How direct do you mean, precisely?”

“Quite. It will allow us to speak directly into each other’s thoughts—no verbal communication necessary. Currently they’re only capable of transmitting words intentionally thought, but I hope to eventually allow for the sending of images as well, but the prototypes... Haven’t gone well thus far.”

Sera laughed. “Wait, you’re telling me that I’m going to be able to see this lot’s thoughts? Cool. _Frigging weird_ , but cool.”

Dorian shook his head, smiling. “Not exactly. To send a communication, the words must be thought _very_ intentionally. You won’t be able to root around in each other’s minds. To the receiver, it will be as if someone has spoken aloud, using their regular voice. More discrete, though. Perfect for a clandestine meeting.”

Solas looked over the crystal. “This is elaborate. I’m actually quite impressed that you’ve managed to do this all so quickly. It’s an impressive knowledge of magic for one who has spent such a short time studying it.”

Dorian laughed. “Unlike you, I haven’t had the luxury of time. I learn quickly to compensate for my mortality.”

Solas nodded. “We should discuss this later. And judging by her expression, it seems Merrill would like to be involved as well. We would both be quite interested to hear how you managed such a feat.”

She noticed for the first time that the Dalish woman had been staring at Silea. When they all turned to her, she laughed uncomfortably. “Yes, the crystals. I’d be quite intrigued to learn more about them.”

Dorian nodded. “Again, later. As for this morning, I’ve secured meetings with Maevaris. She’s agreed to share information with us and will be expecting us shortly. She wishes to keep the locations of each group secret, in case one of you are caught and questioned.” He straightened. “Not that that will happen, of course!”

Solas nodded. “We best get moving, then, if she’s waiting.”

“Indeed. Magister Tilani is not a patient woman.”

* * *

She approached the wooden double doors, Solas by her side. They heard a raise voice from inside and a peal of laughter before Dorian appeared, holding the door open for them, groaning.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Dorian rolled his eyes, an arm on the door. “Mae’s got me running errands for her like a _serving boy_.”

“Oh, just get on with it, dear!” they heard a voice chime from within the room.

He sighed. “The _illustrious_ Maevaris Tilani, head of the ancient Tilani household, Magister of the Tevinter Imperial Senate, will see you now.” He turned his head back to the woman in the room. “Damn it, Mae, I’m a magister too!”

The woman had a pleasant laugh, clear as bells and nearly as melodic. “When you’ve been around as long as I have _Master Pavus_ , you can claim whatever favors you like. And I thank you for playing along with me. Let your friends in. I’d see them soon. I have a meeting immediately after I take my tea, so you’ll all need to be off before then.”

“We’re practically the same age!” he protested.

Maevaris simply shrugged. “I ascended to my seat in the Senate while you were still a wild little pup. Age is less important than bearing and I have been practicing my manner of conducting myself far before you were even aware of the importance of such an endeavor.”

She and Solas exchanged a hasty glance and shrugging, they entered Maevaris’s massive study.

The curtains were drawn and it was lit only by candlelight, despite it being midday. The room was far cooler than any other in the house, so much so that she almost regretted not bringing a sweater with them.

Maevaris sat upon a great ironbark desk, ornately carved with figures from what she assumed was Tevinter legends. Her legs were crossed and she leaned backwards, bracing herself with arms that were simultaneously muscular and stately. Her hair was golden, curled in short spirals down her neck. Her eyes were as blue as crystals and gown precisely the same shade, exotic feathers covering her shoulders.

_I must admit, the woman cuts quite the figure—striking, glorious, and intimidating—all in one._

She extended her leg, slipping off the desk as though floating from it. Holding out a hand, she nodded to them each in turn. “Maevaris Tilani. I am enchanted to meet your acquaintance.”

Dorian nodded. “This is Inquisitor Lavellan, the lovely leader of our little political operation. And Solas, our wandering expert on all things Fade-related.”

Maevaris raised a single eyebrow, eyeing the elven mage. “Are you _quite certain_ that is all you are?”

“And you’d have me spilling all of my secrets within a moment of meeting me? Would it not be far more entertaining for you to draw them out from me slowly over time so that you can glean the truth for yourself?” He stood straight and unyielding, but smiled politely. “Allow me to keep my secrets and I will endeavor to do the same with yours.”

“Spoken like a true courtier. There _is_ something interesting there, and I may have it from you eventually. But this is not why you’ve come. I have news for you—been making inquiries, discreetly of course. There are a few household positions that may be of interest to you.

“And who would you have us serve?”

“An up-and-coming magister by the name of Emrys Allendi. She’s a formidable mage, an adept scholar, and a fearsome politician. She may not have served with Corypheus, but that does not mean she is our ally. And there are many among the magisterium, myself included, that believe she sees far more with her single eye than she’d like the rest of us to believe. You’ll need to watch yourself, Inquisitor.” She turned to Solas. “And you as well, my mysterious mage.”

Solas nodded, frowning. “Understood. What are our roles to be?”

Maevaris’s head turned upward slightly, considering. “That will depend on your skillsets.” She scrutinized each of them in turn. “Which, my dear, are?”

She answered for him. “Solas is a Somniari, a Dreamwalker. He has a frighteningly impressive knowledge of history, language, and magic.”

The magister shook her head, tutting. “You should not let your mastery of the arcane be known. It is not custom for the Tevene to enslave one that they have employed as a servant, but my countrymen are also not well-known for being averse to breaking with tradition. If Emrys learns of your skills as a mage, she will certainly try to ensnare you. Think what you will of Tevinter, but I would not have that happen.” She nodded, thinking aloud. “Language may be of use, however. I know for a certainty that she’s just dismissed one of her favorite librarians. Something about being caught abed with another magister. The _scandal_.” The last word she purred, like a kitten who had just been offered milk.

She turned to Solas, expression serious again. “Do you speak Tevene?”

He nodded, a small smile drawing across his face.

_Solas in a library? As employment? She could not have imagined a better position for him._

“What about Nevarri?”

He nodded again, smile growing.

“Avvar? Qunlat? Orlesian?”

“There is no language existing today that I cannot understand, either spoken or written.” He was positively radiant.

Maevaris nodded, smirking. “Elvish? I don’t know a being alive who can…”

He raised his eyebrows, his eyes laughing even if he kept the remainder of his face composed. “Fluently.”

The older magister turned to Dorian, hands meeting together in a peak at her chest. “Oh, you _do_ bring me all of the fun ones. One day you’ll need to tell me where you make your friends.” She turned back to Solas. “Yes, you’ll do just fine. Just don’t give her more information than she needs to know. And a few mistranslated words here and there… Could be of great use to us.”

Maevaris turned to her then. “And what of you, my dear. What unusual skills do you bring to the table?”

She shrugged. “I’m afraid nothing as exotic as Solas.”

Dorian interjected. “She’s charming. In this country, that fact alone makes her stand out. She’s a warrior as well and a quick study. She could pull off more than most given the chance.”

“Hmm...” Maevaris considered, brows drawn sharply. “I’m afraid I must give you the more dangerous of the positions, then. Lady Emrys needs an assistant. She expects much: discretion, fortitude, intelligence, and physical strength. Do you think you could fulfill that request?”

“What precisely would I be doing?”

“Sitting at the magister’s right hand. Reading her letters aloud. Dictating her notes. Protecting her from physical harm. The duties are quite varied. After some time, she’s likely to entrust her secrets to you. And one more thing... She’ll be looking for someone who can _pronounce_ Tevene and transcribe it, but does not understand the language itself. She will use magical means to ensure this is the case.”

“She will not need to worry. I do not speak Tevene, though the pronunciation is simple enough. Though I’m not sure how I will be able to listen to her conversations without knowing the language.”

Dorian sighed, holding his face in his palm. “I’m at a loss as to why I spent countless hours creating these sending crystals if everyone is to forget about them? All you need to do is _think_ the words and I’ll translate.”

Maevaris smiled, gliding towards Dorian. “Oh, so you _finally_ got them working? Do tell! Have you tested them out yet?”

He shifted slightly. “Not... extensively. But I _have_ tried them. Should be able to transmit just thoughts now, no speaking necessary. Much more clandestine.”

“And you’ve made one for me as well, I take it?”

He blanched, sputtering. “Um... Not exactly. But, I can! Just give me a day or two... I...”

Maevaris laughed. “I only tease you, Dori.” She tousled his hair like he was a teenager. “But I would like one if you have an extra about. Let me know. If we’re settled, I’ll work up the appropriate documents and secure interviews for you both. I’ll need to find fabricate some references for you… It should not take terribly long, but it will take a bit of time.”

“Thank you for your help, Mae. As always, it was invaluable.”

Maevaris winked, a smile faint on her lips. “I live to serve, Master Pavus.” She flipped her hand, folding over into a deep bow. “I am glad for the help, really. Corypheus’s death didn’t completely wipe out the Venatori. I’m glad the Inquisition has taken an interest in our little country.”

The magisters both seemed genuinely hopeful about their plight. They seemed to think that the Venatori could be brought to heel and that Tevinter could somewhat be cleansed of corruption.

“You know, when this is all over, we could use you. We no longer have a spymaster, as our dear Leliana has ascended as Divine. Your services could be put to use restoring order across Thedas.”

The blonde magister only laughed. “You honor me with the suggestion, Inquisitor, but my place is here. Besides, Tevinter is enough of a problem for me to wipe up. Taking care of an entire world... Now that seems a larger scope than I’d like to involve myself with.” She ran a hand through her golden curls. “I like to take a day off every once in a while, you know.”

“Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to speak with the other two as well. Dori, would you mind seeing them in?” She gave him a look. “Oh, don’t even _say_ it. I _know_ you’re not a messenger. But I prefer to make an unforgettable first impression and I can’t very well do that if I’m opening my own doors, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, my first scene with the illuminating Maevaris Tilani. I hope to write her faithfully, though I've admittedly only encountered her through research. If you have suggestions or questions about her portrayal, please let me know! I'd like to be sensitive about her, so please let me know if anything seems amiss.
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always!  
> Dareth shiral. <3
> 
> Elvish translations, courtesy of FenxShiral:  
> Lethallan: kindred (f.)  
> Nuvas ema ir’enastela: May you have great blessings; thank you so very much  
> Ara melava son’ganem: My time is well-spent. Archaic and intimate. Rarely spoken to those who are not close friends, family, or lovers.  
> Silea: wisdom, clear thoughts, feminized


	14. Promises and Prayers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note:  
> This chapter may be a bit upsetting, especially without the subsequent chapter being available yet. If you'd like to avoid cliffhangers, possibly wait until Chapter 15 is completed before reading this one.
> 
> Ma serranas.

Fanning herself, she lay in repose on a sofa that she and Solas had moved to the balcony the morning to try and retreat from the stifling heat. The sun was beating down upon the city and all of the gilding on the buildings suddenly seemed incredibly ill-advised. There was precious little to distract them from the weather while they waited for Maevaris to update them with progress on their employment. 

Solas had gone off somewhere to find something to drink, preferably with copious amounts of ice, and he had taken his cooling spells with him. She sighed, missing Skyhold and its constant chill. Tevinter was insufferable. Why couldn’t the Venatori be in the Frostbacks somewhere? That would have been convenient and _far less_ tortuous. 

She leaned back, wiping the beads of sweat from her brow, squinting up at the sky. 

She felt a sudden weight depress the other half of the couch and sat up, startled. 

Cole sat before her, seemingly unbothered by the weather. 

_Does he feel seasons? I’ve never seen him wear anything else and I’ve_ never _seen him without that massive hat._

“Cole, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

The young man looked in her direction, but about half a foot above her head. “She woke confused in this world, body not matching what she felt in her mind. They laughed at her, ridiculed her, when she made her conflict known. But she laughs no longer. She has found herself and will allow no one to take it from her.” 

She sighed, looking confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

He smiled, ever so slightly. “New friends.” It was clear he would not offer any more on the subject. “I wanted to speak with you.” 

“I had assumed as much, given that you are here.” 

He simply nodded. “Does it pain you?” 

She looked at him, curiously. “Does what pain me, Cole?” she asked, gently. 

“Being here. Being in a place where there are those who would hurt you.” 

She smiled, taking his hand, trying to see his eyes from under his hat. “There are always those who would hurt me.” 

He shook his head. “Those here would do so gleefully and not just because of how you _look_ , but also who you _are_ . They _fear_ you. They _fear_ what you represent. Change is terrifying to those who build great cities. I do not wish for them to hurt you. It would... hurt me too.” 

She wrapped her arms around the young man, smiling. “There is nothing that can get to me here. I am as safe as anywhere in Thedas. I’ve Solas, I’ve Dorian, I’ve half a dozen other companions who would step in front of an arrow for me _even if I directly ordered them not to_. And I have you. There is nothing to fear, my dear friend.” 

He nodded, frowning. “I hope you are right.” 

Suddenly her arms surrounded only air. Cole was gone, leaving her alone. 

* * *

“ _Finally_ ,” she sighed. “He returns. I thought you’d gone off on some adventure without me.” She rolled over expectantly. “Did you bring me something? I’ve a terrible thirst.” 

“Have you had sangria before?” He had a pitcher with something that looked like red wine, but it was filled with _ice_ . And _fruit_. 

“Who puts ice in wine? That should be a capital offense. And what am I supposed to do with those chunks of apples?” 

He laughed, the pitcher sloshing as he sat it on the floor of the balcony, before _attacking_ her. He was laying on top of her before she could say a word. “I would guess you eat them. They soak up the alcohol. Anyway, I’m quite a fan. You should be more willing to try new things.” 

“Oh, that’s quite rich coming from you, Mr. _I-hate-all-forms-of-tea-and-am-so-particular-about-my-food-choices-that-the-Skyhold-cooks-run-screaming._ ” She didn’t think the nickname had much of a chance of catching on, unfortunately, despite its incredible accuracy. “Based on your demeanor, it seems you’ve already taste-tested quite a bit.” She raised her eyebrows, rolling him off of her. 

_It’s too damn hot for that nonsense. Even if he looks…_ _Gloriously and fancifully perfect._

She took the pitcher from the floor. “It seems in your drunken stupor, you’ve neglected to procure something for me to pour this absolutely ridiculous beverage into.” 

He winked at her. 

_He winked at me._ _The_ nerve _._

“Is that so?” He pulled two glasses out of the air, their stems crossed between his fingers. 

_Smooth as damned silk. I must be delirious from the heat._

“Fine, I’ll take your fruity _ice wine_.” She looked at the sun. “Why is it so warm here?” 

He took the pitcher from her, pouring them each a carefully measured glass. She took hers from him when he offered it, clinking their glasses together, before trying a sip. 

_Oh, this is actually… delightful. I can see why he’s coming to me only half-sober. It tastes like candy and Solas has quite the sweet tooth. I imagine with a little prodding, I can get him well and truly sloshed._

“What do you think?” he asked, grinning almost stupidly. “You’ve not given me a horrified look at the taste, so I must assume…” 

She drained her glass at once and held it out towards him. “More. And don’t chastise me. I’m dreadfully hot and I don’t have the patience for japes.” 

To his credit, he said nothing as he poured her a second glass, merely passing her a sideways look. He sipped his own, slowly. She reached towards him, plucking a grape from his glass and popping it into her mouth, grinning. 

_Why is he so beautiful? It’s like the gods themselves sculpted him from marble to test me._

_And I’ve failed the examination._

_So many times._

_And I don’t care._

The pitcher nearly gone, she sighed. She leaned on the couch, holding her glass aloft, her back horizontal against the surface, legs peaked together. He was sitting, looking down upon her with something curiously resembling fondness. 

“Has anyone ever endeavored to tell you that you’re absolutely too flawless for this world? If I had been less mesmerized by your lovely eyes, I would have had you placed as a god _at once_. You’re just too lovely to be anything else.” She maintained that the words escaped her lips perfectly, without a hint of slurring. 

“No, I must admit that I’ve never heard that _particular_ honor.” 

_His voice is melted sugar with a hint of whiskey and perhaps a choir of angels and liquid fire for good measure._

“Keep talking, Solas.” 

“Of what?” He sidled up next to her. “What would you hear?” 

“Tell me whether there’s more wine.” 

He laughed, shaking his head. “Afraid not, vhenan. Unless you’d like there to be.” 

She sat up, looking down upon him now, as he took her position of lazily looking up at the summer sky. “I _would very much_ appreciate more wine, but only if you can get it for me without leaving my side.” 

He snapped and the decanter refilled. “Anything for you.” 

“Did you really need to snap your fingers like you were doing a parlor trick?” She asked, eyebrows raised. 

He pressed up, kissing her lips. “No, but it makes it immeasureably more fun.” 

She flexed the fingers in her left hand as he poured her another glass of sangria, laughing as a chunk of ice splashed him with the red wine, staining his beige tunic maroon. Sometimes it felt as though her right arm was as whole as her left. Perhaps there was something left of it there in the Fade, floating around. 

_Perhaps another adventurer will stumble into the Fade and find my dismembered arm lying beneath a pile of rubble. Or perhaps there was a giant graveyard filled with representations of everything that had ever lived..._

She caught Solas looking at her curiously. 

He smiled, head tilted. “Your thoughts?” 

"Oh, just some silliness. I think I’m starting to feel the wine,” she said scrunching her nose. He moved closer to kiss her, lips barely tapping her nose. He pulled her closer, hand behind her neck, kissing her fully on the mouth. She closed her eyes, leaning in to his touch. His face was so warm, but his lips were cool, a welcome interlude to the oppressive heat. 

She pulled away slowly, her head still pressed against his forehead. He took her hand, pressing his mouth gently to her fingertips. 

She opened her eyes, not wanting to break the spell, but needing to see him anyway. “You told Merrill that you had drawn me before when we spoke of healing my hand. I had not known that you had drawn me, other than in the planning sketches for your frescoes at Skyhold.” Her voice was nearly a whisper, loud enough that only he could hear. 

She could feel the laughter in his chest before she heard it, soft and deep. “Yes, I did. I do still, sometimes. The first time we met, I spent _days_ drawing you. I knew every line of your face before you had even opened your eyes. Your hands I know better than my own.” 

“You mean...” 

He nodded. “When you first came to Haven a prisoner, I studied the Anchor, trying to keep you alive. First I drew the mark upon your hand as a measure of its progression. I would sketch it out every hour, very quickly, to see if I observed any change in your condition. I measured the size of the Anchor, how it responded to the Breach, and the timing between your convulsions. As you slowly improved, I began to draw it in more detail. 

“And as I grew more tired, I lost my resolve and began to draw your face as well. You awoke several times during that hazy period.” His hand trailed against her cheek, before taking her hand back in his own again. “You spoke nonsense, but the way you looked at me...” 

She felt a twinge of nervousness. “I hope I didn’t say anything untoward.” 

He laughed. “No, it wasn’t that. You had been flailing around, feverish for the better part of a day. Eventually, as the sun was beginning to set, your breathing slowed and I thought that we would lose you. I reached deeply into the Anchor, probing it, trying to pull it back into your hand. The process was bleeding me dry; I was fighting against my _own_ magic and not only that, but magic created at time I was much stronger. When I opened my eyes, instead of seeing you still and unbreathing, you were looking at me. As though you had _known_ what I had done trying to save you. As though you were grateful for it. As though you trusted me. It was unlike anything I’d experienced. Unwavering, unfaltering confidence for someone you had never met—that is a quality that simply _does not exist_ in the vast majority of people. I knew immediately you were unlike anyone I was likely to meet. And I knew that I needed to protect you from those who would take advantage of that optimism.” 

He sighed, pulling away from her. “Even though I _knew_ that I would need to betray you. Even though I _knew_ that I would lose you in the end. Even as I wished to pretend that you and the people of your world were not worthy of saving, your eyes sowed the seeds of my failure in that instant. Over time, your friendship, your love, caused those buds to blossom. And here we are. I failed in my original quest, but gained another. One I had never intended, because I did not know it was possible to hope for it.” 

“Solas,” she said, for the pure joy of being able to say it _to him_ and have him be there to hear it. 

He met her eyes, still frowning softly. “Yes?” 

“Will you marry me?” The words slipped out before she had finished forming the thought. 

He stiffened, looking confused, cocking his head and regarding her curiously. 

_What_ stupidity _could have possibly possessed me to say such a ridiculous thing?_ _I hadn’t ever even_ considered _the possibility and now suddenly I’m acting on some subconscious impulse?_

_Oh gods. He’s looking at me._

She turned away, but he took her face in his hands, pulling her back to him. 

He was _smiling_ at her, eyes incandescent with unbridled joy. 

She had never seen him look so happy, not in all of their time together. Not even when he spoke of the Fade. Not even when she _found him_ in the Fade, that very first time. 

His voice was soft when he finally answered, staring deeply into her eyes. “If you are being serious, then yes. After all this is done, there is nothing in this world that would please me more.” 

“What?” 

He laughed. “You just _proposed_ to me, vhenan, or rather the _wine_ did. And I accepted.” 

She shook her head. “No, that’s impossible. You’re supposed to argue, to look at me sadly, turning away and say ‘no, I can’t’ dramatically.” 

His face fell somewhat. “Was it not a serious question, then?” 

She shook her head, again, flailing. “No, I… I had never thought… It was…” 

“Don’t you _dare_ say ‘impulsive and ill-considered’,” he threatened. 

She sighed. “As soon as the words left my lips, I knew that it was precisely what I wanted, even if I had never consciously considered the prospect. The thought just needed to be shaken loose by a bit of sangria and broiling temperatures, it seems. Ar lath ma vhenan. Will you marry me? I love you so, so much.” 

He laughed, shaking his head. “Yes, vhenan. With no reservations. Once we finish in Tevinter, we can begin preparations in earnest. Though, I had expected to... I had expected something a bit more formal than...” 

She grinned, sheepishly. “Wine addled nonsense?” 

He laughed, shaking his head. “Vhenan, addled or not, I… never thought I would…” 

“Find someone to share your life with?” 

He nodded. 

“Well, you’ve gone and done it. Your days as a wandering, mysterious bachelor are nearly at an end.” She laughed, partially because of the sangria, partially because she was feeling unimaginably giddy. “Can we open a vineyard?” 

“And make ridiculous ‘fruity ice wine’, as you so eloquently put it?” 

“Precisely.” 

“There is no finer a pursuit, as long as it is done together.” 

“Do me a favor and don’t tell anyone I drunkenly stumbled through a proposal.” 

“And I certainly never speak a word that I accepted, whole-heartedly.” 

“It’ll make elopement easier that way.” 

He groaned. “There is no way in _hell_ that you’re going to get away with that. First of all, Dorian will kill you. Then, Cassandra will kill _me_. Then Josephine will probably kill us both, if we’re not well and dead already. Then the rest of our companions will throw things at our corpses in whatever order they choose. No, we’re going to have a whole damned ridiculous affair, because you’re the Inquisitor and there is nothing you can do without it becoming everyone else’s business.” 

“Admit it, you feel a little smug to be one that ensnared me. And you relish the attention. You’ve always wanted to feel wanted. Now you have an entire ridiculous family to deal with. We all do.” 

“You’ve given me a thousand, thousand gifts all of which I am tremendously grateful for.” 

She held up her glass towards him. “Then let us celebrate them all.” 

* * *

She didn’t remember how she made her way downstairs, back into the sitting room where Varric, Hawke, Fenris, Bull, and Dorian were playing dice, but there she was, kicking the door open, pitcher of wine in her hand. 

“I’ve brought you all a treat. It’s called sangria, and it’s _liquid magic_.” 

Fenris raised his eyebrows. “I believe that’s called lyrium, and I don’t think you should drink it by the pitcher.” 

Bull laughed, shaking the table with the force of it. “What do you have there, Boss?” 

“I’m quite certain, or at least a little certain, that Solas enchanted it to keep filling itself so I’m rightfully not sure other than we had at least one... and then two... and then... I believe I lost count after three.” 

Hawke snickered. “That might explain the flush on your skin and why you’re wearing his clothes.” 

She looked down at herself. 

He wasn’t lying. She had Solas’s sweater on, backwards, and had pulled his pants up as well. They were slightly too big on her and she kept needing to pull them up. No wonder they hadn’t fit, given that they weren’t hers. 

She giggled, remembering why she had come down. “I’ve something to tell you all!” She moved towards the table. Her friends lifted their glasses in the air, just in case she was as unsteady as she looked. She saw that they had been placing bets, a small pile of silver and what she could have sword were Varric’s glasses sat in the middle. She picked up the glasses, placing them on her nose, and swiped the coins off the table, taking a seat on it. 

She crossed her legs, looking at them in turn. 

“Well, spit it out, then. You’ve got us all waiting.” Varric said, a smile on his lips. 

She kissed the dwarf on the nose. He pulled back, his face reddening. 

“Solas said... not to tell anyone!” she burst into a fit of laughter, unable to contain herself. 

Dorian smiled. “Well then, you must tell us all _immediately_.” 

“My thoughts exactly.” 

“So... are you going to tell us, or just sit there giggling like a child who was just given a pony?” Hawke laughed. 

“I’M GETTING MARRIED!” she squealed, very un-Inquisitorially. 

Varric raised his eyebrows. “You’re talking about Chuckles, right? He... asked you?” 

“No, silly. I asked _him._ And he said _yes._ And you all _must come_.” 

“You asked Solas to marry you and he actually _committed_ to something?” Varric shook his head. “I didn’t think it was possible.” 

“It is possible. And we’re going to save the world, then get married, open a vineyard, and then have beautiful elven babies and you’ll all live with us and help babysit and we’ll drink wine and play cards and...” 

Dorian laughed. “We look forward to it. But for right now...” He looked at Bull, who could barely contain his laughter. “Can you help her back to her bed?” 

Bull stood, chair scraping against the stone floor. He picked her up unceremoniously and slung her over his shoulder. 

“Wait! I’m not done yet! I’ve more wine to drink! And... you haven’t congratulated me yet!” She slammed her fists into Bull’s back, pouting. 

“Congratulations, Inquisitor.” Fenris said softly, looking at Hawke. 

Varric laughed, setting his glass back down upon the table with a clink. “We’ll all be at the wedding. And now that we know, Chuckles won’t be able to back out if it if he wanted to.” 

She looked horrified. “Whaddya mean, Varric? He would never...” 

Varric sighed. “Yes, yes. I know. Okay. Bed now. Night, Boss.” 

Bull readjusted her slightly, carrying her up the stairs back to her room and placing her gently next to a sleeping, nearly naked Solas. He left the room, after pulling the blanket over her. 

She snuggled up against Solas and he shifted at her touch. 

“Where were you? I looked for you in the Fade.” 

“Talking to friends. Go back to sleep.” 

He nodded, rolling back over. She wrapped her arms around him and slipped into sleep herself. 

* * *

She was alone, standing in the center of a cavernous room. The ancient roof was peppered with holes, but she could see no sky nor stars through the openings, only a thick black smoke that was trailing its way into the building. Shadows adorned the walls. When she approached, she realized that the structure must have been covered in stained glass, but no light was entering the building from the windows, making them seem more ominous than celebratory. 

A temple of some kind, then. 

She wandered through the building, realizing that she was only in a sort of antechamber. Towards the rear, the path led out to a courtyard, well-maintained and cared for. It could have been a sight at any manor in Thedas, if not for the eerie lack of color. 

Towards the center of the area stood a statue that was clearly meant to represent Mythal, blade in one hand and shield in another, her robes billowing behind her. Her face was stern, but not unkind, as she stared upon the courtyard with marble eyes. A single vine had climbed up to her shoulder, where a single white flower bloomed just below the woman’s ear. 

She passed underneath Mythal’s outstretched sword, following the cobblestones across the garden. Eventually the courtyard itself terminated in a giant door carved into a mountain, which swung open as she approached. 

She ascended stairs, ceaselessly and wordlessly through an airless corridor. She felt no wind against her skin, but the thin passage was lit softly with magelight. If she had been in the waking world, she’d surely have been out of breath and panting by the time she reached the precipise after what seemed like hours. Eventually, the path widened again and she was nearly thrown into the open air. 

She had climbed a mountain from the inside, winding the circular stairs from the base up to to the peak, which had flattened out before her. She could no longer make out the temple below her. Clouds hung lazily and she could barely make out the tips of the highest towers in the black city. The sky was dark even above the line of clouds; she could still see no sign of stars and no moon hung in the air. 

She followed the path onwards to a courtyard nearly identical to the one she had encountered below, near the entrance to the mountain, seemingly an age previous. The hedges were trimmed neatly, edges sharply cut. Roses were blooming, though she saw no vibrant colors, only snow white and ash flowers seemed to grow in this strange place atop a mountain, above a city made of darkness. 

Towards the center of the courtyard, the statue of Mythal was a perfect replica of the one below, except at the center, the woman’s shield was replaced with a shimmering eluvian. The surface of the mirror was as black as everything else in this strange world, but she felt compelled to approach regardless. 

Mythal’s face looked kind, perhaps even gentle. Still, knowing what Solas had told her was enough to make her distrust the goddess. However, there seemed to be no way to proceed through this strange world. 

She breathed deeply and stepped through the darkened eluvian. 

She was falling, flailing through open air. She had never had encountered this situation before when passing through the mirrors—she would usually end up in the Crossroads, the ground directly below her feet. This was something new, something different. 

And it frightened her. 

Eventually her feet hit solid ground and she had the wherewithal to allow her knees to bend, absorbing the force and allowing her to maintain her balance. She stood, slowly, looking forward. 

A field of petrified Qunari warriors stood silently before her, stretching out through an abandoned courtyard. 

She knew this scene. She knew what happened in it. And she knew who she would find at the end. 

She ran through the maze, not stopping to look at any of the perfect stone statues before her. She nearly tripped on the uneven stones, catching herself before she could fall. The familiarity of the place gave her pause. 

_What is this dream trying to show me that I do not already know?_

She saw him before her, hands clasped behind his back like he was _made_ to lead armies of men. He was resplendent in his golden armor, a thick wolf’s pelt draped across his shoulder. His back was towards her and he did not stir at her approach. 

_This is not how it happened._

“Vhenan,” she breathed. 

He turned, finally, to face her. 

She gasped. 

The thing had Solas’s shape, his face, his body, but it was warped to the point where it could no longer be considered the man she knew. Its eyes were as black as the rest of her blasted dream, pupils taking over Solas’s normally gray irises and bleeding into the whites as well. Its face was marred with inky black scars, crisscrossing where Solas’s freckles would be. And on its forehead, in the same black tar, was Mythal’s vallaslin. 

When he spoke, it was with Solas’s voice, though sharper, less controlled. “You found me at last. I suspect you have questions.” 

“You aren’t him, _demon._ ” She spat, reaching to her side, pulling her blade from its sheath and brandishing it at the creature. “Show me your true face.” 

The not-Solas just laughed. It was _his_ laugh, but wrong. Immensely wrong. 

“You finally came to join me. I was beginning to suspect you had abandoned me entirely. Fickle thing, love,” the creature said. 

She moved towards the creature, blade raised. 

“And you _do_ love me, do you not?” The creature was smiling at her. “Oh yes. I can practically sense it oozing off of your skin.” 

“What are you?” 

“Exactly who I appear to be. A friend, proffering wisdom.” It smiled, baring sharper teeth than those the Solas she knew possessed. 

She shook her head. “We have already played through this scenario. Whatever you are, I’ve already won. I’ve kept him from tearing down the Veil and plunging the world into chaos.” 

“Da’len, you are blinded to what you wish not to see. You run headfirst into a world you cannot even begin to comprehend. You’re but a child, playing a game meant for gods.” 

“Whatever you are, you are _not_ him. You do not speak for him. You do _not_ know him.” 

The creature laughed. “Oh, I know him better than you think. You think _you_ know him? The Dread Wolf has so many faces and you’ve seen but one. He hides the others, fearing what you would do. He is frightened at the lengths you will go to try to stop him. The ways you’ve changed him gives him pause, pulls him from his purpose. He is not yours and never has been. He does not belong to himself; how could he possibly give himself to _you,_ tiny little thing?” 

She stood, facing down the demon, sword in hand. “You are wrong.” 

The creature wearing Solas’s face shook his head. “And what price would you be willing to pay if I’m right? Would you be willing to give up everything?” 

_It is folly to argue with a demon._

She steeled herself and lunged towards it, feinting to the left. The creature was not fooled by her movement, parrying her blade with its staff before she could bring her sword arm down in a brutal cut to its left. 

She spun halfway, never taking her eyes from the monster. She treaded around it, considering. They circled each other, staring. 

“You’ve only the one weapon, da’len. You’re outmatched against me.” 

Her eyebrows raised, her mouth angling ever so slightly. She made a few practice swings, noting the demon’s reaction speed. She didn’t like what she saw. 

_It’s going to be dreadfully quick. And it likely has magic, and I’ve no mage to shield me. Unless..._

She had spent weeks practicing her barriers. She had learned to deflect some of Solas’s spells against them, though she could not maintain the constructs for long. She could use it briefly, if there was an attack she couldn’t otherwise block, but she’d need to stay vigilant. Solas had mentioned that magic was stronger in the Fade. Perhaps her barriers would be tougher, but there was no knowing what the creature would be able to do without having it thrown at her first. 

She took a deep breath and a step forward, her feet lightly rooted to allow her to swirl away if need be. 

The monster did not hesitate. It hurled shards of ice towards at her face. She spun, dancing away from the crystals, which shattered upon the face of a petrified Qunari warrior immediately behind where she had been a second before, bursting the statue into dust. In the next moment, it was fire he flung, widespread and dangerous. She threw up a barrier, almost instinctual after her practicing. Solas had been tossing grapes at her at random intervals to try and encourage the behavior. He had gotten Sera to do it as well, and soon the whole party was pelting her with food. Dorian was horrified. 

She found herself smiling slightly as the flames passed harmlessly on the other side of her magic. 

_Perhaps I_ am _a quick study._

Her sword at the ready, she was tired of being defensive. She’d always be at a disadvantage to a mage at a distance. She needed to move closer before he had a chance to dance away again. She held her sword out, away from her body, opening herself for attack. The moment he shifted his staff to cast, she slid into him, sword slashing against his left side. 

She hit her mark, but what met her was not blood. It was black and stuck against her skin, burning her where it touched. She gritted her teeth. It may be possible to destroy it. 

The monster was _grinning_ at her and she found the sight even more unnerving that when it was trying to kill her. 

“Da’len, we do not need to fight. Come to me and I can help you. I can help him. We’ll help each other.” 

_I do not need your help, demon._

She moved in closer, nodding. “Perhaps we can make a deal, then.” 

The demon straightened, speaking in the voice that was almost Solas’s. “You are in no position to be making deals, da’len.” 

She laughed, walking slowly towards the monster. “Oh, but I believe I am. You want me _alive._ Otherwise you’d have killed me and have been done with it. Could’ve dropped a statue on my head. No need for speeches. Quick and easy. But no, you give me a whole talk on how my lover will betray me and how you can help me with _something_ without telling me _what_ and...” She smiled, close enough to feel the demon’s breath. 

And she pushed her blade into its belly, steel catching on its skin before sliding through its bowels. She pulled the blade upwards, feeling the gentle resistance, before swiping her dagger cleanly across its neck, splattering herself with the black tar. 

She wiped her face, spitting out the foul-tasting liquid. It tasted like blood and smelled of rotting meat. 

Then she looked before her. 

Solas, _her_ Solas, bereft of corruption, was bleeding on the ground. 

She dropped to her knees and pulled him to her. 

He gasped, blood seeping from his throat. She hadn’t cut down to the vocal chords, but could still barely make out his words. 

“Thank you.” 

She tore cloth from her tunic, trying to quickly wrap him in bandages to staunch the rapid flow. His eyes fluttered, before closing. 

His breathing had stilled. 

His chest had sunken, ever so slightly. 

She pressed her ear to his chest, listening, but there was no heartbeat either. 

She felt the world go still, the breath rushing from her lungs as surely as it had from his. 

“Vhenan, do not leave me here. Please. Whatever _this_ is, you must fight it.” She felt her throat constrict. She swallowed sharply, looking up. She would not allow herself to cry—not here. 

She tried to lift his body, but he was too heavy to take so far. She resorted to dragging him towards the eluvian, grunting with the effort. When she made her way to the mirror, it was glowing a soft crystal blue, not black like the previous eluvian had been. She lifted him, finally, and stepped through the mirror, grimacing. 

She felt the familiar sensation of passing through water as she normally did through eluvians. 

But this time, the sensation didn’t recede. 

She was drowning in the pitch black, Solas’s body weighing her down. She could not see the surface of the water and could not bring herself to lose him here, knowing she would never be able to recover him again. 

_So, this is where we die, my love, swallowed up by an ocean in the Fade, me clinging desperately, foolishly, to a memory of you._

She felt the tension leave her shoulders as she accepted their fate, sinking into the water. She held her breath as long as she could, before gasping out for air, water filling her empty lungs. 

Her eyes searched helplessly, but there was not light enough to make out even her own body against the blackness. The gods had seen fit to take her eyes from her, keeping her from seeing him one last time before she faded from the world. 

She closed her eyes, her head feeling as though it would be crushed under the pressure. The water had filled her nostrils, mouth, and throat, drowning her lungs. 

_Falon’Din_ _enasal_ _enaste_. 

_Solas would hate that my last thoughts were a prayer._

_Let them be of him, instead, and of the life we could’ve made together._

She gave herself to the water, allowing it to leech all hope from her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaah. I have so many feelings.  
> First of all, I need to thank my darling beloved friend [Lethendralis](https://lethendralis-paints.tumblr.com/) for her impeccable artwork for this series, which you can find:  
> [Sketches of Arlathan and Inquisition Solas](https://lethendralis-paints.tumblr.com/image/187190813331)  
> [An absolutely gorgeous painting of both Solases (Soli?) ](https://lethendralis-paints.tumblr.com/post/186813108501/how-do-you-like-your-eggs-sketching-out-some)  
> Go to her Tumblr, drop her some love, give her all of your money, squeal over all of the beautiful artwork she makes.  
> It's been a maddeningly lovely week, watching her come up with those final sketches and having them finally be *mine*. To have something created from something *you* created by someone you care for... There are no words to describe the feeling.
> 
> This chapter was hard. And fun. And hard. And lovely.  
> Thanks for joining me on the journey.  
> Ma serranas.  
> I hope you don't hate me for the ending.  
> But don't be too upset.  
> This is all I shall say.  
> Dareth shiral,  
> MP
> 
> Elven translations:  
> Falon’Din enasal enaste: a prayer for the dead, essentially Falon'Din (elven god of death) grant you favor


	15. The Depths of Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting, my lovelies. I hope you enjoy.   
> An unusual Solas POV here. Don't expect it again. ;)

He scoured the Fade for a sign of her presence, but she was nowhere to be found. There was no trace of the spirit that he found himself inevitably drawn towards night after night. He was certain she had fallen asleep—he had seen her take her place beside him, listened to her breathing slow. She had her arms wrapped around him in the waking world, her body pressed tightly against his back. But here, in dreaming, he could not find her.

_Is she... not here? Where has she gone that I cannot follow? Is there something... shielding her from me?_

He felt a sudden tug at his consciousness, pulling him from his slumber. He opened his eyes and saw her.

_Something is incredibly wrong._

She was no longer holding him, her face looking directly up at the ceiling. He pressed his hand against the mattress, pushing himself up into sitting. A loud squelching sound met the motion and when he pulled his hand back, he realized that their entire bed was covered in water. It was pouring off the side of the bed, pooling on the floor. There was water streaming from the side of her mouth, her nose, and even her eyes. He tried to wipe it from her skin, but more replaced it as quickly as he could remove it.

His eyes widened.

She didn’t appear to be breathing.

“Vhenan,” he called, shaking her. Her head lolled back and he quickly placed a hand behind it to keep her from hitting the headboard. He pulled her against himself, cradling her.

He remembered the crystal on his finger and thought intently of the rest of their companions.

_“Make haste. I need assistance or I fear she might die.”_ The panic in his voice left no doubt as to whom he spoke of.

Cole appeared first, immediately at her side, followed shortly by Wisdom. He looked at his old friend, helpless. The woman knelt at her bedside, frowning.

“There’s been some sort of an interference with her spirit in the Fade. Something is after her, Solas. Something that did not mean for her to survive the encounter.”

He looked at her, frown deepening. “Help me with her.”

Merrill opened the door, blinking.

“What happened here?” she asked.

“Merrill, I need your help. Can the two of you staunch the flow of the water?” He looked to the not-exactly-spirits, who nodded, closing their eyes, magic thrumming. “Merrill, I need you to try to draw the liquid from her lungs. I will not be able to help her until we’ve removed it all. Please.” He pleaded. “Help me.”

Merrill nodded, closing her eyes as well. Her hands began to glow as a steady stream of water floated out of his love’s mouth, collecting in a sphere at Merrill’s chest. It continued to grow, until it was nearly as large as the woman it came from.”

He closed his eyes, tapping into his magic, and using it to examine her body.

_She had drowned. Her lungs had been completely filled with water._

He felt a small, slow pulse. Her heart still beat, weakly, but steadily.

He drew a deep breath, loosing a trickle of magic into her body—enough to maintain her life while the others worked. If they weren’t able to stop the water collecting in her lungs, it would not be enough even so.

He opened her mouth, pressing his lips to hers, and exhaled. If her lungs weren’t pulling in air, he would have to do it for her. He would give her a breath then pull away, allowing Merrill to draw out the water.

Dorian, Hawke, Fenris, and Varric entered the room together, unsure what to do as the mages worked.

“Dorian,” he said, breathlessly. “I need you to take my place. She needs help breathing, and you’ll need to watch her heartrate as well. Give her a jolt of power if you feel it faltering.”

The magister’s eyes were as wide as he had seen them before. “And what will you be doing if you are going to trust me to keep her alive?”

He frowned, resolute. “I need to enter the Fade. I need to find her, before it’s too late.”

Solas made a sign with his hand, creating an anchor that would latch his spirit to hers. It was a desperate move, but he had few options and a little improvisation was necessary.

“Take care of her. I cannot lose her again.” He looked at his companions, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes again, slipping into the Fade.

He was met with a cold, wet, blackness, stretching as far as he could tell. Magelight blooming from his hand, he treaded water, looking for a sign of her. Seeing nothing, he expanded the light, forcing it to the corners of the sunken chamber. He saw her then, towards the floor. She was clutching something, lying on the bottom of the floor. He took a deep breath, plunging into the inky waters, swimming after her.

As he approached her, he realized what she had clung to so tightly. He was looking at a reflection of himself, as still as she was. He pried her fingers away from his dopelganger, pulling her into his arms. He held her in his left arm, kicking against the water and pulling with his right. His lungs burned with the exertion. By the time he’d reached the surface, he was nearly dizzy. He broke through the water, drops streaming from his face. He pulled her onto a column, lying next to her, catching his breath. He rolled over, pressing his lips to hers.

Blinking, she stirred beneath him. He wrapped his arms around her.

“Vhenan...” he breathed, hands encircling her face.

She looked up at him, seeming surprise in her eyes.

“Solas,” she said, her voice hoarse and hardly stronger than a whisper. “You were...”

He kissed her forehead, feeling a distinct sting in his throat. “I’m here, vhenan. I will not leave you. The gods themselves could not tear me from your side. It was only a dream, vhenan. You need to wake up. I will find you there.”

She slumped in his arms before vanishing entirely.

He opened his eyes and she was before him again, all of their friends gathered around, looking various stages of frightened. The mages paused what they were doing, sensing the change in her demeanor, the spirits already knowing intuitively what had transpired. She rustled against him, slowly opening her eyes, blinking.

“Are you real?” she asked, her voice filled with gravel. “Or are you whatever comes beyond, here to greet me before whisking me away?”

He exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Vhenan...” He pressed his forehead to her chest, nearly collapsing against her.

“Inquisitor,” Varric said. “You had us pretty damned worried. Try not to...” Varric couldn’t finish the sentence and what was left hung heavy in the air. He sighed. “We wouldn’t know what to do if we lost you.”

“Solas, I am so tired. Why am I so tired?” she turned to him, her slender fingers seeking his face.

He looked up to meet her eyes, tears finally falling against his cheeks. “Nearly dying will do that.” He looked around the room, silently thanking them each in turn. He would owe them something more than that later, but for now his attention was elsewhere. “Sleep, vhenan. I will stand guard against your dreams. You will not enter the Fade again. Not until I’m sure of how to properly protect you from those who seem to wish you ill.”

Dorian knelt down to kiss her forehead and the rest shuffled out, back to their beds. He imagined that little sleep would be happening in the household that evening.

“Don’t scare me like that again, little dove. You know I’d become insufferable without you keeping me in check.”

She gave a strained smile. “Dori, thank you. I... I had given up hope on ever seeing you all again.” She wept, suddenly, as though whatever had been holding back the tears burst into pieces. “I thought I would die there, alone, helpless, while the world spun on without me.”

The young magister kissed her forehead again. “Sleep well, sweet.” He turned to Solas. “Keep her safe. For all of us.”

He nodded, face set sternly. He knew well the importance of what he needed to do. She was being hunted in her dreams. A momentary lapse on his part and she’d be at risk again. It was to be a long night.

Dorian crossed the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Solas waved a hand, instantly drying the flooded room. “Are you warm enough?”

“Stay with me and I shall be.”

He nodded before pulling her head into his lap, resting a pillow underneath her hair. “Always, vhenan. _Always._ ”

* * *

He sat, eyes closed, legs crossed underneath her, hands resting gently on her temples for nearly three days. Staying in this state was second nature to him at this point—he had spent so many hundreds of years here already. He could stay like this for ages, no sustenance or sleep. He would stay as long as he needed to allow her to rest. Whenever he felt her spirit pulling against him, straining to enter the Fade, he nudged her back again into her own mind.

_She will sleep, dreamlessly, until she has recovered from her injuries._

He felt a slight sorrow that he could not be with her during that time. Her consciousness was barred to him if she remained outside of the Fade. He could not ask her what happened. He could not tell her he was sorry for not protecting her properly in the first place. He could not share in his horror at the thought of losing her.

He felt utterly alone, even as he touched her sleeping form.

Since he had made his choice to abandon his quest, he had never felt so far from her.

It should not have been that way and he cursed _whatever_ had tried to sever her from his world, especially only hours after he had been so exquisitely joyful. It was cruel, but he was no stranger to the pain of the world.

_She will live yet. And hopefully I can shelter her from the monster that haunts her footsteps._

_“Will you marry me?”_ she had intoned, soft as a breath, the night before she collapsed.

_There was never any question, vhenan. I had merely never hoped at such a scenario—to imagine it while simultaneously believing it could never happen would have been far too much to bear._

A figure of her floated before his eyes, dressed in emerald green, flowers braided through her hair and filling her hands. Her arm laced in Dorian’s, the two of them smiling as though the entire world had just been offered up to him. She was so beautiful it brought tears to his eyes. He felt them welling even in Urethenera, such was their power. A simple scene unfolded before him, surrounded by their friends and companions, the family they’d woven together from disparate strands of the world. None of them had a right to love each other—they were all so different—but tragedy builds bonds stronger than joy. And they had, each of them, had their fill of sorrow.

She walked towards him, slowly, giving him a wink as soon as she was close enough for her features to become distinct. When she and her friend finally reached him, Dorian wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead. He could have sworn that the magister was straining to keep his own tears from falling.

They stood before her Keeper, who he imagined as lovely and wise.

_So much have my opinions on the Dalish have changed. Her gift to me—ridding me of at least a sliver of my pride._

Above and behind the three of them was a monumental willow tree. Fireflies twinkled between its branches, leaves swaying gently in the wind. The moon shone, illuminating their features against the stars. Each of their guests carried a single lit candle, a Dalish custom he found surprisingly poetic.

His eyes were on her, though, and the intricacies of the scenery were lost on him. He was sure it was beautiful.

He had never seen her so happy, so contented, so overflowing with emotion.

His feelings mirrored her own.

He took her hands—her _hands—_ in his. Keeper Deshanna led them in the words, which they repeated softly in sync, as though they meant to reach only each other’s ears.

_Ara lethal'len, lasan ara'lin sul saota_

_Lasan ara'sal, sule ha'lam'sal'shiral_

_Telas ema em, ar giran ara'lin_

_Y la'var nuvenir, sul'eman emma asahn sul'ema_

_Telas raja em, ame lin'revas_

_Y jusul'anan na i'viren isalas_

_I thai juem on'el rodhe, garal o emma da'lav_

_Ara dir'vhen'an_

_Ma juveremas sael'prear or emma dil_

_Sael davathe or emma hyn_

_Sasha mar melin julahnan fra nydha_

_Sasha mar inan juithan fra dhea_

_Juame mar shalasha, la ane emma_

_Telam'aven judirtha or em'an_

_Var vas druast i'em'an, i alinen tel'juhartha ebalasha_

_Juleanathan i myathan na ove min'sal'shiral, i su uth'then'era_

_I give you myself to make one from two. I shall worship and praise you through this life, and into uth’then’era._

_Ar lath ma, vhenan._ Life is purposeless wandering without you at my side.

He kissed her then, as though they’d never kissed before.

_And yes. I used tongue._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short. I *know*. But, it was exactly what I wanted to write. I have no regrets.
> 
> As for the next few updates, I cannot promise I'll keep my usual Thursday/Sunday posting schedule next week. I"ve had a terrible time sleeping of late and have been told by several friends that I need to... Take some time to breathe. I feel as though I'm walking the din'an'shiral, half a corpse. I'll still be writing, I can do nothing else, but I may be a bit quiet online while I reestablish my mental health. These last two chapters wrecked me. I still love you and, just like my Lavellan, I have not forgotten.
> 
> Ma serranas.  
> -MP
> 
> Dalish marriage vows are from FenxShiral. Thank you for this absolute poetry.  
> Elvish translations:   
> My clan mate, I give you myself to make one from two   
> I give you my soul, until the end of life's journey
> 
> You cannot have me, I own myself   
> But while we wish, I give what is mine to give   
> You cannot command me, I am a free person   
> But I shall serve you in the ways you need   
> And the fruit shall taste sweet, coming from my hand
> 
> My promise
> 
> You shall have the first cut of my meat   
> The first sip of my wine   
> Only your name shall I cry during the night   
> Only your eyes shall I see in the morning   
> I shall be your armor, as you are mine   
> No bad words shall be spoken of us   
> Our bond is sacred with us, and others shall not hear my grief   
> I shall worship and praise you through this life, and into uth'then'era


	16. Woven Starlight (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, it's been too long, dear friends. I've missed these two.  
> This is an NSFW chapter! You've officially been warned. ;)

When she opened her eyes, he was the first thing she saw. His hands rested gently on her forehead, eyes closed, brow furrowed. It did not take long for him to notice that she had awoken. When his own eyes met her own, he smiled, sadly.

“ _Vhenan_ ,” he breathed, his voice as soft as lace and nearly as fragile. “I had feared I would not see you again. My greatest fear was that our story was to end in this… me hovering over your body until you finally expired. I am sorry that I did not protect you… I…” He looked too pained to continue.

_There is nothing he could have done that he had not already tried to do._

She turned her head slightly, just to make sure his lover’s knot, the one that he had enchanted to prevent her nightmares, was still there. It lay against her skin, a whisper against her flesh, a reminder of the promise they had shared.

“How long?”

“Nearly five days now, though even for me they began to blur together.”

“I am sorry to have caused you to worry.”

“You are sorry? There is nothing to apologize for. What happened was of no fault of your own. _I_ should have been more careful about your dreams, especially after the first… You did not tell me everything, did you?”

She shook her head, frowning, sitting up and leaning her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm and a blanket around her, letting her lean against his chest.

“You need to tell me everything, you know. No more secrets. I can’t protect you if I don’t know the entire truth.”

She looked at him, the frown still heavy on her face. “I do not need you to protect me. I am fully capable of doing so myself.”

“Perhaps in this world it is so, but in the Fade… You’ve no magic to protect you from those that would do you harm. And your recent experience would suggest that you perhaps _could_ use some protection.”

“I used magic there. A barrier. It actually _worked_ and surprisingly well. It fended off a demon.”

He cocked his head. “You fought a demon alone, in your dreams?”

“I’m not sure, precisely. This demon wore your face and... I killed it, but then it was _you_.”

He frowned. “Me? Do you remember anything else?”

“In both of the dreams, I was in a place, some sort of city. There was no color anywhere, as though the entire world was covered in ash. There was a black muck that grew in both places, chasing me in my first dream and covering your face in the second. I think… I’m afraid…” She took his hand in hers. “It reminded me of the stories of the Blight—the corruption eating away at everything living and nonliving. Does the Blight exist in the Fade as well?”

“I… do not know.”

“Where did it come from? What does it mean?”

“I don’t…”

Once she began speaking, she found it impossible to stop. “There was a woman in my first dream, Solas. She said she would take us both and covered us with her blood markings, only they were as black as the rest of the city and they _burned._ I felt it sear into my flesh and my spirit. And she _laughed_ when I tried to defy her. Both of the monsters, the woman and the creature that looked like you, acted as though it is all some grand game that we are merely pawns built for their amusement. And they both seemed to want _you_ more than me. I think I’m just the bait for them to catch you.”

“I will need to think on this, vhenan. And in the meantime, you will not be able to sleep without me present. I cannot allow you to enter the Fade again. It has proven dangerous twice and…” He choked. “I will not lose you again.”

“I…” Her words caught in her throat. “I thought I had killed you. The monster that wore your face… At first, when I saw it, I knew it to be an imitation. We fought, and I tricked it, sliding my blade through its body. Then it _changed_ before my eyes. I was afraid that it _had been_ you. That it had been me to…” She buried her head against his chest, tears beginning to well in her eyes.

He held her there, his hands running gently through her tangled hair. They were so tender. He was so _real_. Still, something kept her from believing.

“How can I know that I am not dreaming, still? That this is not the Fade and that you are not just a vivid imagining?”

He took her face in both of his hands, her eyes resting upon his gray ones. “Vhenan, one cannot truly know. Even the most fantastical dreams can feel authentic and the waking world can feel just as ephemeral. I know it sounds strange coming from me, but we _must_ strive to believe in this world. Anything less will lead only to madness. We need not speak on this right now. It was cruel of me to ask so quickly after you recovered.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled against his chest before looking back up at him. “Solas?”

“Mm?”

“Was it real?”

He cocked his head, his fingers tracing along the line of her jaw. “Was _what_ real, ara lath?”

“Did I really ask you…?”

He smiled. “You did.”

“And did you really…?”

He kissed her forehead, his smile widening. “I did. And my position has not changed, even sober, if yours has not.”

She returned his smile, feeling a sting in the back of her throat. “It hasn’t. But I will ask you again, now, if you’d like.”

“I’d rather ask _you,_ ” he said, eyes intent on hers. “Will you marry me and entwine your spirit with mine? I would give myself to you fully if you would only have me. I would bring down the stars to weave into your hair, swirl the clouds to dress you, and temper fire to keep you warm. I love you so, ara sal’shiral. The world loses its color without you.”

The tears came in truth then, welling against her eyelids and running down her cheeks. She looked up to see that even his eyes were not dry. She took a finger to wipe a tear away, and his hands brushed both of her cheeks.

“To the end of the world, I would follow you, Solas, my love. I accept, wholeheartedly and unreservedly.”

The radiance of his smile would have put the sun itself to shame.

He drew her against him, his lips touching hers softly. She pulled him closer, wanting to feel the intensity of him.

_I need to know he’s real._

He did not retreat, kissing her as fiercely as she kissed him, their bodies and minds perfectly in sync.

She moved to shrug off her tunic, pulling away to lift it above her head.

“Vhenan… Are you sure this is wise? You did just wake up after sleeping for nearly a week. You almost died.”

She smiled wryly. “Not all lovemaking is wild bucking and flurried thrusting. Just be gentle with me and we should both be fine. Besides, we were both too drunk to truly celebrate the night it first happened. Take me softly, vhenan.”

He raised his eyebrows, his words smooth as melted caramel. “In a past life, it was always stolen, hurried moments of fleeting passion for me. Never lingering embraces and easy touches.”

“Of course, you would say that. Wild sexual god in ancient Arlathan or something of the like.” She laughed. “Well, then we can learn together, if you _are_ interested?”

When he smiled, she could have sworn that just a _hint_ of his fangs appeared.

_Perhaps a trick of the light._

“No other endeavor has interested me more, vhenan. Show me.”

She pulled back into a kiss, laying on her side next to him, running her hand against his face. She was exhausted, yes, but being close to him like this, knowing the depth of his affection, filled her with a steady fire.

Her leg wrapped around his, bare skin against the cloth of his trousers. He’d taken to dressing in the Tevene style, as most of them had. It was too hot here to do otherwise. He was draped in silks, which were _such_ a pleasure to run her inner thigh against.

His lips were hungry, eager, but unerringly gentle. He did not push her harder than she could take, which was admittedly less than usual. After a few minutes, he allowed his tongue to probe her lips, a gesture she not only accepted but reciprocated heartily.

He sighed against her. The one negative of his new style of clothing was that he couldn’t hide _anything_ that happened beneath his waistline. He wanted her, desperately, and she could tell.

She moved to undress him, but he stopped her with a kiss on her forehead. She tried to catch him before he was back on his feet, but he just laughed.

“Allow me. You needn’t trouble yourself.”

He slid the silken robe off of his shoulders, hanging it gently off of the back of the headboard of their bed. Next to it, he placed the leaf-green tunic he had been wearing underneath.

_Oh, I shall never tire of seeing him like this._

He was far more muscular than he would have let on during their time together in the Inquisition. He was always trying to blend in—to avoid suspicion. But she had felt his strength whenever they would embrace. To see the physical evidence of it was always a treasure.

He noticed she was staring and moved back to kiss her. He helped her to sit up, his eyes seeming to ask if she was still interested.

She nodded, smiling, and kissed him. He seemed to be grateful that she had suggested this intimacy; he was clearly holding himself back to avoid overwhelming her.

_Has he spent the last five days thinking of me, because it certainly seems that way? He’s so... He acts like he_ needs _this._

He seemed a little sad to pull away from her, but they had both longed to be wearing far less clothing.

_A tiny inconvenience for the sake of a greater pleasure._

His fingers gripped the shift she had been wearing. It hadn’t been what she’d fallen asleep in, a lifetime ago.

_He must have found something more comfortable for me to wear while I had been unconscious. I wonder what was involved with trying to save me. I should ask, but I’m afraid I don’t want to know._

She lifted her left arm and what was left of her right, and he pulled the simple nightgown above her head, laying it next to his own clothing. Having removed all barriers between the skin on their chests, he returned to his position at her side, kissing her softly and running his fingers across her naked side. It took all of her power to not laugh at his caresses—she felt herself shivering with desire against him as he tickled her.

_I could have lost this, all of it. I was so near to doing so. And he... and the others... they brought me back from the depths. He saved me, saved me yet again. I hope that eventually we run out of things that want to tear us apart. If time were the only demon chasing us, I would be much more at ease._

He left her lips, moving his own across her neck. She felt her body twitching involuntarily at the contact, which seemed to please him. He smiled at her, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

“I would give you the moon, the earth, and all that is in-between.”

She smiled, kissing his nose lightly. “You know I would settle for _you_. I don’t need sovereignty over everything between the ground and sky. It would be too much trouble, anyway. You, at least I have a chance of handling.”

“That you do, vhenan.”

“Then, let us dance,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Gladly.”

Solas’s mouth left her neck, trailing down her chest and onto her stomach. It always made her laugh a little when he approached her bellybutton. He looked up at her, a wide grin plastered on his face, and winked, before returning to his task.

His lips flirted with the line of her smallclothes, sending her into a twitching fit. He laughed audibly, if softly, before gently sliding them off of her legs.

He played with her then, kissing her long thighs, her stomach, and the inside of her legs until he knew that she would acquiesce to anything.

_I am his, this silly man. And I hope... No, it is more than just hope now. I am certain that he is mine as well._

He looked at her then, a smile still lingering on his lips. “Are you sure, vhenan? We need not continue if you are too tired.”

“Solas,” she laughed. “If you leave me here like this, I’m more likely to explode from unfulfilled desire than I am to collapse from exhaustion. _Please_. I will tell you if I need you to stop. Isalan hima sa i’na, vhenan.”

“Isalan dera na aron tuelan.” He winked. “Ha’mi’in. Allow me.”

She lost his face between the sea of her legs. He kissed the inside of her thighs, her lower stomach, and she felt herself flush the nearer he approached. His touch was like the smallest breath of wind on a summer’s day, light and gone too soon.

And finally, blissfully, his mouth was where she wanted it. She curled her fingers with desire as his tongue tasted her before entering her. His mouth was warm, soft, and undeniably pleasant. She was at his mercy.

His tongue searched momentarily before landing on her clitoris. Her reaction was immediate and probably ridiculous. She hadn’t suspected the move and it had shocked her. She writhed against him, but he would not let her go.

_He is toying with me._

She nearly laughed aloud at the thought. He was probably feeling incredibly proud of himself, making her squirm like that. She couldn’t let it continue—it was too much.

She took his hand and pulled it inside of her. He looked up, grinning wickedly, as though he knew _precisely_ what he had been doing to her. He settled into a rhythm and she allowed him to do most of the work. He was deft, his hands careful and practiced.

_Let him pleasure me how he will._

She felt herself growing wet under his touch, her eyes rolling back into her head with the feeling of it.

She pushed him off, nodding at his breeches, which were still somehow on his body. “Off,” she said, unceremoniously.

He obliged. And she was not the only one finding the scene arousing.

“Take me.”

Nodding, he entered her, filling her body with a soft glow. The pressure was entirely pleasant and she didn’t want to expend too much effort. Let us both relax into this; exploring each other need not be furious and pitched. She let him set the rhythm as she lay on her back, eyes closed.

_He is thoroughly wonderful._

“Solas, I love you,” she said breathlessly.

He grinned, pushing deeper into her. “And I you, vhenan. Do not scare me like that again. I am not sure I will recover so easily if this repeats itself.”

“I should nearly die more often, if this is the eventual result.” She laughed at his look of horror. “I am only kidding, my love.”

“You don’t need to worry me to get me to make love to you.” His hands clutched at her hair, pulling ever so slightly.

“Oh? If only I had known that before.”

“Must we continue speaking? I am a bit... preoccupied... if you had not noticed.”

She laughed. “Well enough. Go ahead and bring down the moon for me, ara lath.”

He smiled, holding her. He stopped his thrusting into her, kissing her instead. She was filled utterly with him, warmth radiating from their meeting place to her toes and to her fingertips. She could feel every pulse inside of her. Even half asleep, she was humming with the energy of him.

_I could stay here forever._

It seemed he felt the same, making no motion to continue.

_Well, perhaps not forever._

She pushed her hips against him, which seemed to break him out of his reverie. He kissed her once more, continuing lightly. She felt the pressure begin to build between her legs, growing and expanding through her abdomen. Her back arched against her will, eyes rolling back.

_Oh..._

And finally, the wave breached the shore, sending her into convulsions. She felt her own body clench around him. She felt her arm do the same, her fingers digging into his back.

When she finally managed to open her eyes, she realized that he was not far behind her. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was ever so slightly open. He moaned her name softly, and then he was gone as well.

She felt him filling her, smiling at the knowledge that this was probably unlike anything he’d experienced previously. Simple intimacy with someone cherished, who cherished him as much in return.

_I hope to show him everything that love can bring, in time. And I hope that he never lives to regret his choice._

He kissed her cheek, leaving her with only the memory of him, sweet and warm. He stood to pull his robe back on, but she stayed put, laying on her side. He sidled back against her, the skin on his chest the cloth didn’t cover flush against her naked back. Solas wrapped an arm around her, his lips near her neck.

“Do you still wear the ara’lin’hasal, vhenan?” he whispered in her ear, words tickling it.

She shuffled, pulling her arm out from underneath her to show him the braid. “I’ve never taken it off.”

He sighed. “I thought it would be enough to stave off the nightmares. It must be something more than just common dreams, especially if they could hurt you in the waking world. I’ll need to study this. We can’t allow that to happen again. The consequences of failure are too great.”

“Do not worry on it now, my love. Just hold me. Keep me from dreaming, if you like, but do not go anywhere. I would keep you close.”

His arms tightened as his lips pressed against her neck. “As close as I can be without melting into you, vhenan.”

“I would have you no other way.”

* * *

Fenris practically cornered her as she went to fetch something for breakfast.

“A moment, Inquisitor,” the slender man growled. It was not a question.

She nodded, bidding him continue.

He led her to the antechamber off the side of the kitchen. They were alone, not another soul in sight.

“Have you _taken leave of your senses_?” Fenris hissed.

She cocked her head, unsure. “You’ll need to be a bit more specific than that if you’d like a clear answer to that question. I do quite a few things that most would consider absurd.”

Fenris glowered. “You plan to _marry that man_? Dorian _told_ me what he was to you. What he did. The manner of your parting long before we met. I spoke to him of it. The only thing keeping me from sending his _smug ass_ back to Arlathan with the pretty little elves he so loves was Dorian’s barrier. I thought you had more self-respect than that.”

Her jaw dropped. “Fenris, I didn’t realize you _cared_.”

“I…” he started. “Well, you’re Varric’s friend, and Varric is Hawke’s friend and…” He shook his head. “ _Kaffas_. No, that’s not right. I _do_ care for you. You’ve a rare sort of kindness. It reminds me a bit of our mutual friend. I would not like to see you hurt again.”

She frowned, sighing. “Fenris, the world is cruel. Forgiveness is one of the few weapons available to us to combat such pain. And Solas and I… we’ve had so much sorrow. We’d like to take what little happiness we can find in each other, but I thank you for your concern.” She smiled slightly. “It means the world to me. And I’ll note your murderous intentions in case he acts a fool again. I _am_ glad you joined us. Few understand what it means to lose themselves completely to a cause. You, Solas, Hawke, and I have that unfortunate commonality.” 

“Hawke...” he said, chuckling.

She cocked her head, looking at him over her nose. “What of him?”

The slender elven man laughed uncharacteristically. “You will be proud, I think.”

“Oh? Where is Hawke, then?”

Fenris grinned wryly, the corners of his mouth upturned ever so slightly. “Probably still in bed. _My bed_.”

She smiled, her eyes widening. “No... You didn’t?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I would not exactly _thank_ you for your display a few days ago, but... I had decided that it was foolish to continue avoiding him. Not when we could be taken from each other at any moment, just like...” He looked at her, frowning. “I came to Hawke that evening we found you—the evening that _he_ saved you. I told him that I was ready to try again. That I feared losing him as we had almost lost you. That I forgave him.

“And he, despite of everything, came with me. And we had a reconciliation, of sorts. One that we’ve been having nightly ever since.”

She had to suppress the urge to clap, instead settling for wrapping her arm around the other elf. He stiffened initially, before returning her embrace.

“I am _so_ pleased, Fenris. You deserve to be happy.”

He couldn’t hold back a smile any longer. “Whether I deserve it or not, I’ve decided to take it. You’re ether an excellent or a terrible influence, Inquisitor.”

“Happy to be of service. Love hurts, Fen, but it’s as sweet as anything.”

“I do not regret joining you. Even if it brought me back to this pit of a country.”

“And I do not regret recruiting you. We have much work to do, you and I. I hope that we can bring a bit of sanity here.”

He nodded, turning to leave. “Be careful with yourself, Inquisitor. You’re the only thing keeping this ship of miscreants afloat, I fear. We would be adrift without you.”

“Go on, back to your lover. Before he awakens and wonder where you’ve gone off to.”

He laughed, shutting the door behind him. “You as well, Inquisitor.”

* * *

She headed back to her room with a tray in hand with assorted cheese, fruits, and breads for Solas and her to eat for breakfast. A pot of tea that she had specially prepared for him balanced on the side as well. He was particular about that beverage and it had taken some testing to find a formulation he liked. This one was ridiculously sweet with cream and cinnamon and some other Antivan spices. He had finally relented, offering that she had at last made the beverage “passable”. It was as good as a compliment as she was likely to get.

Merrill stood in their antechamber, something clutched behind her back. When the slender elven woman heard footsteps approaching, she started, spinning around.

“Oh! Inquisitor! Hello!” Merrill was still endeavoring to hide something from her. “I went to see you, but Solas said you’d stepped out and...”

She laughed. “Merrill, you don’t need to stand outside of my door. You could have just as easily sat with him.”

She shook her head. “Between you and I, he makes me a bit nervous... If what you say is true... Is he really Fen’Harel?”

She nodded, smiling. “In the flesh. Don’t let that worry you. He’s mostly harmless. Besides, he likes you. You both enjoy fixing old things. Not many would care to. He’s expressed his admiration for you on multiple occasions.”

Merrill blushed visibly. “Oh! Well... That’s kind! I like him too. Strange that of all the gods, we meet...” She stopped. “No matter. Why don’t you head in and I’ll follow after you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “What do you have that you don’t wish for me to see, Merrill?”

“Oh! Nothing! Um... Just go on in. And can you grab the door?”

She shrugged, sitting the tray down before her. She knocked on the door and Solas answered after a moment, looking confused.

“Vhenan. And Merrill, why are you still waiting out here? You could have come in.”

“Solas, would you mind grabbing the tray for me? It’s a bit hard to hold the door and the tray both with one hand...”

He nodded, picking it up with one hand and holding the door open for the two women.

Merrill snuck in, Solas eyeing her curiously.

“Would you like to join us, Merrill?”

Merrill shook her head. “No, no! I just wanted to give you something. Both of you. I had heard you recovered and... I was speaking with Sileal. She said that... Well she gave me an idea of something to make you feel better and keep you safe.”

Solas cocked his head, brow furrowed. “What did she get you up to, Merrill?”

“Now that I’m here, I’m not sure about it... What do you think?” The woman looked between the two of them.

“We’ve no idea what you brought. Can you show us?”

“Oh, of course!” She placed a small box on the table between them, unfurled a ribbon, and removed the top of the box.

Inside was a small, sleeping, furry figure.

“Sileal said that you used to keep wolves and that they would often travel and hunt with you. I thought... Maybe this little one could do the same? She’s not a wolf, but she seems like a smart little dog and I’m sure she’ll keep you company at least!”

She peered down into the crate, looking at the dog in question. It was still a puppy, paws much too large for her tiny body. She was largely black, with a tan and brown undercoat, and cream-colored accents. A red ribbon matching the one that was on the top of the box was tied around her neck. Her coloring made it look like she had eyebrows. Her eyes were as brown as chocolate, so dark that the pupils are irises almost melted together.

The dog looked up at them, opening her eyes and yawning. Merrill pulled her out and sat her on the table.

Solas shared a glance with her. “This is very kind, Merrill, but I’m not sure what we would do with a dog...”

“Oh, I knew it was a terrible idea. Hawke had also encouraged it. He said, ‘Merrill, nothing makes people happier than a furry little beast.’ I knew I shouldn’t listen to him.”

As she had spoken, the puppy had moved across the table, sniffing at Solas’s hand. She started licking him.

He met her gaze and burst into laughter.

“No, you misunderstand me, Merrill. I was only surprised. It has been so long since I’ve had an animal companion. She is... admittedly, a bit less... fearsome than my usual pets. But... I am sure she will do well.”

She grinned, looking at them both and the dog in turn. He already seemed half smitten. “So, you wish to keep her then, Solas? I did not think you would wish for more responsibilities.”

He laughed again, shaking his head. “Oh, absolutely, we shall keep her. What a kind gift, Merrill. We will treasure her. And of course, you’re always welcome to play with her as well.”

Merrill was positively beaming. “You’ll need to let me know what name you decide upon! I am so, so happy that you didn’t think me mad for giving you a dog. Fenris said it was a terrible idea, that people should make their own decisions about taking on more tasks, but I said that you’d need a bit of a push.”

She hugged Merrill. “Thank you for this, Merrill. And for saving me. And for... Thank you.”

Merrill laughed, her voice twinkling. “Well, I shall let you bond then. But do let me know if you need anyone to watch her! Puppies can be a lot of work.”

They both turned to watch her go, before glancing back at the puppy. In the moments they had been occupied, the tiny dog had managed to inhale all of the cheese and bread that was meant to be their breakfast, leaving only a few plums that she had clearly licked and decided to ignore.

Solas glanced at her. “Fenedhis lasa…” He picked up the dog, who proceeded to try to chew on his ear. “You’re going to be trouble aren’t you? _Mirae_.” He said, looking at her with a smile. “Our little thief.”

The dog, seemingly understanding, gave a small bark in reply and licked Solas on the nose.

_In a few days, those two are going to be inseparable._

“Mirae has a nice sound to it, vhenan.”

He nodded. “Indeed.” He rubbed the dog’s head. “Welcome to our family, Mirae, little one.”

_Our… family?_

When she met his grin, it was all she could do to keep the tears from jumping to her eyes.

_I suppose we are, at that. And what a strange family we shall be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my lord. Chapters 14/15 were so PAINFUL for me to write. I've been living completely in the [Ariverse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20374555/chapters/48318856) to compensate for the pain. I've also put together a compendium of sorts, for folks who are interested in learning more about my worldstates and OCs, which you can find [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20464040/chapters/48556271).
> 
> Now that we're past THAT, I should be able to get back to my twice weekly publishing, as long as my sleepiness cooperates. :)
> 
> This chapter was brought to you by faerieavalon, who helped wipe away my tears from a distance, Lethendralis, who kept me alive with her beautiful, sexy Fenris portraits, and Lana del Rey who I listened to for the entire duration of writing this sucker.
> 
> My loves needed some sweet, sensual fluffy love. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing. Ma serranas, dears.
> 
> Elvhen Translations:  
> ara sal’shiral: my soul's journey; roughly "my soulmate"  
> Isalan hima sa i’na: I lust to become one with you  
> Isalan dera na aron tuelan: I lust to touch you like a creator/goddess  
> Ha’mi’in: Relax  
> ara’lin’hasal: lover's knot  
> Sileal: Wisdom  
> Fenedhis lasa: expletive; actually translates to "go fuck a wolf", but in this case it's just used as "fuck"  
> Mirae: little thief
> 
> Tevene translations:  
> Kaffas: shit


	17. Sweets and Light Bondage (NSWF)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another NSFW chapter. Consider this your warning.   
> If you're here for the smut, it's in the first and last scenes.   
> This is a long one, which is why it took a minute to write. And I didn't even hit all the plot points I wanted to get to! Stuff always comes up. Oh well. Hope you enjoy!

Solas, as usual, was thoroughly engrossed in his reading. He had requested everything from his library that had any casual mention of injuries incurred during dreaming, histories, fables, scientific documents, biographies of madmen. She didn’t even realize that there were that many books at Skyhold, let alone so many that hit on those particular topics. Besides, he requested each volume _by name_.

_I’m not sure if I should be impressed or concerned._

He had also co-opted Dorian’s vast collection of books, pulling books of varying sizes of the shelves and stacking them at his workspace in an ever-growing tower.

Dorian had said, more than once, that they might need to acquire him a stronger desk in order to accommodate the massive weight he was placing atop it.

Solas just laughed. “Oh, I’m sure this isn’t the most vigorous use that this particular piece of furniture has seen.”

Dorian had put a finger to his lips, as though he wanted to argue, and then thought better of it.

She had convinced him to leave the study and sit with her in a small alcove on the top floor of Dorian’s manor. There was a window overlooking the city, the bustle of the streets below visible but inaudible from the height. Solas’s study was windowless. “Bad for the pages,” he would tell her. She liked to be able to see the world. He was typically content experiencing it through the lens of his pages.

Even so, he had followed her. It was a rare thing these days for him to deny her wishes.

_It seems as though he has deferred all decision-making to me. Not that he doesn’t argue, but he eventually relents, turning to follow me wherever I would have us go. As though he does not want me to disappear from his sight. It’s mildly unnerving, but also quite endearing. It is clear he has not forgotten what had nearly happened._

At the moment, her head was on his lap. She had been sleeping in the early afternoon heat, while he sat motionlessly reading, trying to find answers to their predicament. He didn’t notice that she had waken.

She cleared her throat softly to get his attention.

He sat his book aside, looking at her.

“Look at who has decided to join the realm of the living!” he said, eyes twinkling. “I tried recording your incoherent sleeping ramblings, but I fear they aren’t fit for this world.”

“Oh, do tell?”

He chuckled. “Well, some of it was in Elvhen. And the rest of it was… incredibly racy.”

She raised her eyebrows, squinting at him. “Now you _must_ tell me.”

“Oh, just a few things about certain aspects of my body and… what you’d like to do to them. I remember a few props being involved… And a blindfold.”

She colored. “No. There’s no way.” She remembered the contents of her dream, though, and it was perfectly in line with the subject matter.

_Fenedhis lasa, that’s embarrassing._

“I fear there was. You’ve a very active imagination, vhenan. But luckily, I’m quite open to suggestions.”

She wasn’t sure how she was still conscious with all of the blood that had rushed to her face.

Her discomfort escaped her in a little cough. “Have you… found out any useful information?”

“About your sexual preferences? I certainly have.”

She blanched, rolling her eyes. “The _dreams._ The _Fade_. You’re trying to keep me _alive_ , remember?”

“Oh yes, that. Unfortunately, it has not been as successful a search as I like. But I am hopeful still. I have quite a bit of reading to do here and then there’s always the Minrathous Senatorial collection—Dorian has access so I can likely peruse any volumes I can't find here and that we don’t have at Skyhold. And there are books with dark magic in there, unless the rumors are unfounded. From what I’ve seen, very little in Tevinter is unfounded.”

She sighed. “Well, we’ve a plan at least.” She sighed. She was already missing their time in the Fade together. Hoping for a speedy solution to their predicament was likely misguided, but she found herself longing anyway.

“A plan and a will to fix the impossible. Dorian’s even started reading as well—he saw the pile of books and asked what I was doing when I was grabbing from his shelves. When he learned that it was for _you_ , he agreed. He recruited Hawke and Merrill as well, though I’m obviously the quickest study.”

She rolled her eyes again. “ _Of course_ you would say that, _Solas_. Your pride is…” She crinkled her nose. “Wait, do you smell that?”

He cocked his head. “It smells like… Someone is baking sweets?”

She smiled, looking intently at him. “That it does.”

“Would you like them? I certainly would.” Solas smiled.

_He’s mad for sugar. One time after a particularly challenging rift, I saw him inhale an entire cake, to the horror of the rest of the party who thought that he was going to share._

She nodded.

With a flick of his wrist, a plate of warm cookies materialized in his hand. He held one out to her, which she took greedily. He examined another, grinning. “Oatmeal, I believe. Not as nice as chocolate, but… I shan’t complain about free cookies.” He sat the platter down next to her

They heard a yell downstairs, coming vaguely from the kitchen.

“I made those cookies for _myself._ Which one of your magical asses is responsible for this? Once I find out, there’s going to be trouble.” They heard Iron Bull calling out.

_I didn’t know he baked. Perhaps a new hobby, now that he’s been smashing far fewer heads together. Perhaps… I do remember Dorian saying he particularly liked oatmeal cookies._

Solas shrugged. “We were perhaps a little unfair.” He took the single, partially eaten cookie he was holding, turned his wrist, and it disappeared.

“Are you fucking _serious_?! Now you’re just mocking me.” Bull’s voice rang clearly.

Solas snorted, grinning. “I suppose he’ll just need to make another batch,” he whispered conspiratorially.

She shook her head, eyes nearly rolling back into her head.

“Okay, but you _owe_ him.”

“Seriously?” Solas hissed. “Ever since we’ve gotten to this blasted country, he’s come to _me_ whenever he’s lost a hand of cards. Not Varric. Not Dorian. _Me._ Mumbles something about compound interest and Varric not giving him any more loans.”

He shoved a cookie in his mouth. As quickly as it had come, the anger had begun to fade.

“Oh, these are… actually quite good. Hand me another will you?”

She obliged, raising her eyebrows.

“You’ve not eaten yours. You should try it. Bull’s really outdone himself.”

She noticed he had crumbs on his cheeks, and she moved to brush them. He caught her hand and pulled her into a kiss. He tasted like sugar and oats, freshly browned.

He smiled. “Perhaps we shouldn’t be so cruel. Take another one, vhenan, and I will give him back the rest. We should be off anyway. We’ve a magister to try and charm.”

“Yes, wonderful. I’ve been looking forward to licking boots all week.”

“Don’t be so grim. She’s bound to have an excellent library.”

“I’m to be a glorified bodyguard.”

“You’ve a particular skill for… guarding bodies… if I recall correctly.” He snorted at his own joke. “Sorry, that was terrible. Not up to my usual standard, though we have had a hard week.”

“I’ll forgive the misstep this time, but do not make poor jokes a regular occurrence, or I’ll need to find some way to punish you.”

His eyes widened. “Perhaps I _should_ continue then. I must admit that I find that idea _most_ alluring. The blindfolds you mentioned in your sleep could come of use. Perhaps a length of rope?”

She groaned. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’ll have me thinking of our bedroom all day. Now remind me _who_ exactly is the incorrigible one?”

A wicked grin crossed her face. “Tell me, Solas, have you an interest in seeing Dorian’s bathing chambers?”

He took her hand, laughing. He glanced at the table, remembering the cookies. He gave a wave and the platter was gone. “I thought you’d never ask,” he whispered, his mouth touching the outer edge of her ear.

They heard a clatter from below.

“Kaffas, did you have to throw them on my head?!” Bull yelled from below.

They looked at each other, burst into laughter, and headed towards the baths together.

* * *

Surprisingly, they didn’t make love in Dorian’s bathing chamber. They held each other, naked, washing all of the sweat from the past several days from their bodies, but they did not progress past kissing and touching. She had thought it would bother her, but she found it just as appealing as their more pitched endeavors. He was like a beacon in a storm, drawing her safely back into port. She was tired—they both were, still trying to pull away from the grief they had felt just a few nights before.

_When the whole world was to come crashing down upon us._

“Dorian came to me while you were sleeping,” he said, finally, his arms wrapped around her, warm water enveloping both of them.

“And what did he have to say for himself?” She smiled, flicking the tiniest bit of water at him.

A flick of his wrist brought a torrent of warm water from nowhere on top of her head. Her hand went to cover her eyes automatically, but too late. Blinking, she shook her hair, drenching him. His smile was devilishly sweet.

“He said that Magister Tilani had secured us an interview with our prospective employer. For later today. Which made me think that we should probably do something about your hand. While I don’t underestimate your prowess, I don’t think a one-handed bodyguard would be ideal and may raise some questions.”

She nodded. “My prowess? Oh, you give me too much credit. I’ve lost my sword arm. I learned to fight with my left hand, but I’m always going to be stronger with my right and my blade should really be used with two hands if I want any power behind a stroke.”

“Come here. Can I see your hand?”

She lifted her left arm and held it to him.

“No, I meant… I suppose your lack of one.”

She sighed, holding out what little was left of her right arm, after he had taken the anchor from her.

His fingers ran across her skin, tenderly. He turned his hand and a phantom arm, translucent and glimmering, appeared where her old arm would have been. She looked at him and thought about flexing her fingers. To her shock, her shadow fingers moved as she bid them.

She looked at him, eyes wide. “How…?”

“It’s a bit of old magic. There’s a memory of it in the Fade, I just forced it to cross back over. Actually healing your arm to the point where it can interface with objects in the waking world will be the true challenge.”

She nearly laughed at the ridiculousness. “It’s an exact likeness. How did you…? How did you know?”

He smiled, kissing her softly, allowing the shadow arm to fade. “I told you that I’ve drawn you. I can see all of you when I close my eyes. From each tendril of hair on your head to the freckle you’ve got on your…”

She laughed. “I see. I understand why you thought you could serve as Merrill’s focus.”

“Yes, she’s much better at healing than me, but I can still be useful in the endeavor. If she had been around when we had found you at the Conclave, I feel as though you would have awakened much sooner. I could have fought the Anchor while she treated your injuries.”

“There is no need to try to reshape the past. I survived, as did you, and that is what matters.”

He nodded. “An apt observation.” He leaned back, his head resting against the rim of the bath, eyes closed.

She took the moment to look at him spread out before her. There was something incredibly pleasant about the curve of his collarbone—an odd thing to note, but she found herself drawn to the way his chest looked. He did not have the overly muscled build of a warrior, but was still clearly strong while remaining lithe and slim. His shoulders and chest were dotted with freckles that stood out against the pale expanse of his skin. The sun that had been beating down on them since they had arrived in Tevinter had made them even more prominent. Though while his coloring had intensified, his face had softened. Proud still, but without a shadow of the arrogance that she had seen in him before, when they had first met. She found him smiling now, more often than not, and she could hardly remember the time when he stood stone faced staring at her from a distance in her dreams.

_It was not long ago that I... I was not sure that we would meet again in this lifetime. And here he is, relaxing before me, as though nothing had happened. This is more than I ever could have hoped for._

She ran her hand over his chest, lightly, her fingers catching on the remnants of an old scar.

“Solas?”

His eyelids fluttered open and he met her gaze. “Is there something you need?”

“I was wondering over your scars. We’ve never spoken on them. You have so many.”

He laughed. “It’s been a long life I’ve lived. Plenty of opportunity for accumulating wounds. And I didn’t exactly run from a fight in my younger days. In fact, I would often cause them.” He caught her hand, kissing it gently. “Which would you know about?”

Smiling, her fingers traced the silver-white scar on his chest that ran from his collarbone to his left nipple. It was not the thin slice of a sword; it seemed as though something dull had gouged him with incredible force.

“Ah, you’ve actually seen a vision of that one. I received that marking in the Deep Roads when I fought the Titan for Mythal.”

She frowned. She had seen his body hanging against the branches of the tree before collapsing on the ground.

_It was true, then. He had fought a Titan and won and it had left its marking on him. A legend defeating a legend, but still he sits here, as real as I am. He has never been anything more than himself, despite what the stories say._

“Thank you,” he said. His eyes held hers, his voice as soft as breathing.

She cocked her head, looking at him with raised eyebrows. “For what?”

“You don’t look at me like I’m a god. You see me as I am, in all my complexities and flaws. I’ve never met another who didn’t either look at me as either a pawn or a player until I joined the Inquisition. You have always seen through whatever labels the world would seek to give me: apostate, betrayer, divinity. Thank you.” He leaned to kiss her, his lips so gentle it nearly brought her to tears. “Thank you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, unsure of what to say.

_Thank you for seeing me as myself, as though in his life, no one else has done so. That is the true tragedy of his story. That he never had the opportunity to share himself with another._

“We were just men, once. Mages, yes. Strong, yes. But other than our stronger connection to the Fade and our eternal lifespans, there was little to separate us from the elves of your time. I tried to trick myself into believing otherwise, but you showed me the folly of that line of thought. We are the same—we always had been—and pretending otherwise was a crime.

“My rise, and that of the other evanuris, was not so different from your own. We each had a particular strength that aided in our success, but we were also victims of circumstance. Had I been shaped into being by another evanuris, I would be just as gone as the rest of my people. It was only because it was _her_ that I became prominent.”

She shook her head. “Mythal had no right to own you.”

He frowned. “I know how it must seem. I cannot argue the morality of her decisions; my heart biases me towards her. I may not have loved her in truth, I see that now knowing what I feel for you, but I still maintain a deep respect for the woman who shaped me from the air.”

She wrapped her arms around him, their bodies both warm from the water. She caught a glimpse of a large scar running diagonally across his back. She ran a finger against it. “And this one?”

He laughed. “Ah, yes. That was Andruil.” He rolled his eyes. “Her parting gift.”

She looked at him, her eyes wide. “Andruil _hurt_ you?”

“You’ve heard the story, yes? Of her and I?”

She rolled her eyes. “You _cannot_ be serious.”

“Would you like to hear the true version?”

“I am not sure, do I?”

He chuckled. “Absolutely.”

She nodded, urging him to continue.

“The legends would say that I was hunting in Andruil’s lands without her blessing. As though I wasn’t fully aware of what I was doing, where I was, and that one of her ranging parties was less than a mile away from where I decided to start my hunt. Of course, I felled the halla, and her riders could smell its blood on the air. The elves descended on me, longbows at my throat. And they took me to her.”

_This sounds an even more foolish tale than the original._

“You see, Andruil led her people on hunts in far more exotic, far deeper locales. And the rumors were beginning. She was manifesting powers that none of the People had seen before. Her spells would last longer, burn hotter, fly farther than they had any right to. Andruil was never the strongest of us, magically, but suddenly it seemed she had become so. And it had happened nearly overnight, relative to the lives of our early people. I could not allow the rumors to remain uninvestigated. Mythal was concerned for her daughter and I still wore her vallaslin. I was _sent_ to be captured.

“I met Andruil in her great longhouse, a host of her warriors bringing me before her, bound and shackled. She seemed magically stronger, but somehow her _essence_ had grown thinner since I had seen her last. The symptoms you would recognize today.” He paused, looking at her. “Lyrium poisoning. She had gone to the Deep Roads. She had harvested the blood of a Titan and was using it to excess.”

Her eyes widened. “Lyrium...?”

He nodded, frowning. “We did not know what had slowed her footsteps, why she recoiled back to her own lands, avoiding the company of our kin. She was mining it and it was killing her slowly. Raw lyrium was not meant to be touched or consumed by our People. We are of the Fade, even those who were not born of spirits. The magic of the earth injured us. We did not know it yet, but she was slowly killing herself.

“The raw lyrium had likely been sapping her power and she was experimenting with purifications to try and gain it back. I found what I had come for, evidence of her poisoning, to provide answers towards her mother’s fears. I had been captured, however, and Andruil demanded I serve her as a bedwarmer in turn, for trespassing and killing a sacred beast within her realm. It was an offensive suggestion—I was Mythal’s commander, not a lowly servant. But I did serve Andruil in this manner, willingly, for a time. She was entertaining, if nothing else, and I was curious. An intriguing lover, if somewhat selfish. I could not fault her for that. Lovemaking was always a quest for her—domination and conquest. Such was her nature.”

She chuckled. “You seem less than satisfied of your time with her.”

“It was pleasant, sure, but not earth-shattering. Much of what was said of us was written by people who were dead a thousand years after the Veil came down.” He shrugged, laughing. “She was _not_ as good a partner as you might expect from the tales. I grew tired of it after a time. So, I endeavored to escape.”

She frowned. “Let me guess. Andruil was not fond of that idea?”

He shook his head, smiling slightly. “That she was not. I tried to reason with her. I tried to bribe her. She was reluctant to let me leave. I believe she thought I might protect her, to help her if she grew too weak. But I owed her no allegiance. I was only with her out of obligation to her mother and my own... _curiosity._ I may have served Mythal, been bound to her in blood, but I was freer than most of my people, even more than many of the evanuris themselves. I had _her_ favor, which would prevent them from rash actions against me.

“But, Mythal has a blind spot when it comes to her daughter. I was on my own. So, I entreated help, if it can be called such. I let it be known that I was in Andruil’s realm. Widely. And eventually Anaris, one of the Forgotten, learned of my location. He and I... have never gotten along. I didn’t exactly approve of his experimentation with pestilence on the People. It was abhorrent. And he didn’t like me trying to heal his subjects during the course of his trials. ‘Three decades of careful planning trampled into dust by your meddling, Wolf’.”

She snorted. “If I recall the story correctly, he tried to kill you. And fought Andruil for the right to do so.”

He nodded. “That was true. Andruil was weak though. I fought in her stead for my freedom. He would have killed us both, had I lost, such was his anger. He was never particularly _bright,_ that one. Killing _me_ would have been a large enough problem. Killing Andruil would have shattered our tenuous peace.

“We fought, steel on steel, he with his greatsword and I with my scimitar. The heft of his blade made him too slow, I sliced the tendons of his hamstring, dropping him to his knees. Andruil permitted him to recover among her people, as a gesture of goodwill, and I was given my freedom. But not before she took her revenge for my insolence.

“She smiled when she drew her hunting knife across my back, drawing blood as the blade passed through my flesh, the smell of the steel mixing with the metal of my body. I did not wince as she did so—I had felt worse pain. She did a healing spell, but botched it, leaving me with an angry scar. ‘To match her fury and her passion,’ she said. I did not fix it.”

“Can I kill her?”

He sighed. “She’s already gone, vhenan, or trapped away such that she cannot touch us. There is nothing left for you to take.” He laughed at her expression. “My jealous little dove.” He took her hand, kissing it lightly. “We should finish up and try to find Merrill. We have appointments to keep today, as much as I love looking upon you.”

“I am not jealous. I am furious. She hurt you _senselessly_.”

He shrugged. “Arlathan was like that.”

_As though it justifies the behavior._

She allowed him to help her from the bath.

A wave of his hand and they were dry again, all trace of the water gone from the bathtub. A hand running through her hair demonstrated that it was even braided neatly. She pulled the tip of the braid through her fingers and started to see that it was dark brown.

“My hair...” She looked at Solas, who was smiling. “You created disguises for us?”

He nodded. “It would not do for the Inquisitor to be recognized. You’ll notice that I also gave you back your vallaslin, or at least the illusion of one. Your voice would give you away as a Dalish elf. If you don’t carry the markings, there would certainly be questions.”

They were dressed simply, in the fashion of the Tevinter working class, soft and light cotton in earth tones. Not too much exposed skin. She saw that he wore his own disguise, long brown hair tied in a long strand running down his back. They matched, in a sense. He gave her a wink and she noticed that the color of his eyes had changed. Dark as melted chocolate. 

_He looks more of Fen’Harel when dressed as a servant. It is going to be_ quite _the challenge to stick to my work knowing he is out there, somewhere, looking like that._

* * *

She knocked lightly on the elven woman’s chambers. Merrill’s rooms were at the other end of the Pavus estate, overlooking a small pond filled with brightly colored fish and surrounded by budding flowers. Dorian had taken one look at the woman and had instantly decided upon her rooms. Merrill was overjoyed when she saw them.

When no answer came, she turned to Solas. He simply shrugged.

She turned the glass knob, cool underneath her fingertips. The door swung open.

They quickly realized why Merrill hadn’t answered.

Merrill was sound asleep on her desk. When they approached, she noticed that the book she had open was about dreamers and curses. She could see swirling runes and maps lying about her desk. Her area was messier than either Solas’s or Dorian’s, papers scattered about, an ink pot spilled onto otherwise clean parchment. She saw Solas cringe at the sight.

She knelt down over the sleeping elf, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Merrill,” she said softly. “Merrill, we would like to speak with you.”

There was no response.

She shook her shoulder gently and Merrill yawned, stretching. When Merrill raised her head, she noticed that there was a splotch of ink on her forehead, which the woman rubbed across her face as she was stretching.

Merrill blinked before looking around the room. “Oh!”

Merrill stood quickly, as though pricked by an unseen force.

She stifled a chuckle. “Merrill, you’ve something on your face.” Taking a kerchief from her pocket, she dabbed at the ink. “Allow me.”

The woman waved a hand, coloring from her nose to the tips of her ears. “You needn’t fuss over me like that! It is quite alright!”

She offered Merrill the kerchief and Merrill absently wiped it across her head.

“I am sorry... I was trying to read to help you... To help _him_ find out more about the nightmares, but... I haven’t been sleeping well either.” Merrill shook her head.

Solas smiled at her. “We can fix that, you know? Potions and the like. You need not suffer.”

“Oh, I know. I prefer to sleep naturally if possible, but if this lasts much longer perhaps I should.” Her eyes lingered on them both, considering. “Why… What brings you over to my chambers?”

Solas picked up an artifact from her desk, a miniature in wood of an intricately carved tree like the ones they saw in the Crossroads. “We were hoping we could perform a medical procedure. Recapturing the Inquisitor’s right arm.” He looked down at Merrill. “Do you have the necessary supplies?”

Merrill nodded. “Are you sure? I… It isn’t going to be pleasant.”

“Nothing worth doing seems to be.” She smiled. “Tell me what I must do.”

Merrill took her knife in one hand. “You should try and be as comfortable as possible. I have some lounging chairs…” She gestured vaguely to the corner of the room where some furniture was covered with books. “You should lie down. And Solas should sit nearby.”

They busied themselves with the task of trying to reveal the couch buried in Merrill’s reading materials. Nearly ten minutes later, they had moved everything to the side and Solas had begun alphabetizing the books and sorting them by subject.

Merrill had an apple in hand and her knife in the other. “Oh! Thank you… I’m just dreadful at organizing.” She motioned to the recently cleared couch. “Well, sit down then. We may as well begin.”

She crunched the apple, wiping a droplet of juice from her cheek. She sat the fruit down on the floor and drew her blade across her hand. Solas grimaced.

_He is not particularly fond of blood magic—not because he thinks it immoral, but because of the inherit danger it brings to the unpracticed._

“Now, I need to draw some runes. They’re necessary to focus the power and keep it under control.” Merrill kneeled before them, running her index finger in the blood still dripping from her left hand. “If you don’t mind… Your arm?”

She extended what remained of her severed limb towards the mage, lifting her sleeve past her shoulder. Merrill began tracing a flurry of patterns against her skin, brow lined in concentration.

“Where did you learn this?” Solas asked, softly. “Your skill at healing is quite outstanding.”

The elven woman frowned. “I was a First once. My clan required all manner of treatments and my Keeper was often too busy to see to them all herself. She trained me and sent me off to help them.”

He smiled. “You must have been quite the valued member of your community.”

Merrill shook her head, frown deepening. “If only you knew. I was _not_. I became feared, then shunned, and then my actions resulted in their destruction in the end.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “The healer has the bloodiest hands, da’len.”

“I should focus,” she said, sighing. Merrill’s eyes turned to her task, drawing intricate circles and lines, tickling her flesh.

“The runes, Merrill. I haven’t seen their like before in this world. Where did you learn to do _that_ in particular? They’re too old to be common knowledge.” Solas’s eyes were fixed upon the markings Merrill was drawing on her skin, across the stump of her arm.

Merrill sighed. “You’re really seeking to distract me... These were...” She looked at him curiously. “I dealt with a demon of Audacity, trapped from an ancient war in the ruins of Sundermount. He taught me many things... but he also left me with profound pain.” Her eyes were rimmed with tears. “The death of my clan. My fault for dealing with a demon.”

Solas placed an arm on her shoulder. “Not all spirits and demons are evil, da’len. You could not have known his intentions.”

Merrill shook her head, frowning. “Demons always have ill intentions. I was... I was a fool for believing I was in control of the situation.”

“Not always are their intentions wrong. They only fulfil their nature, nothing more, nothing less. It is our interference which perverts them.”

“Solas, my love, it seems as though you are defending yourself.” She looked between him and Merrill, unsure how much the other woman had known about his origins.

“Of course. Who else will do so if not me?”

Merrill stood suddenly. “Are you... are you one of them, then?”

“How much Elvhen do you speak?”

“As much as any of the People still can.” Merrill frowned, brow furrowed.

“My name, da’len, was not given without reason.”

Merrill’s eyes grew wide and she took a step backwards from the other mage. “You... a demon? That... You’re Fen’Harel and a demon both?”

He shook his head. “Not a demon, not a spirit, not any longer. But I originated from the Fade, outside of a physical form. I chose this life for myself. A practice that was common in my time.”

She shook her head. “It... no. It cannot be.”

He smiled. “It _can_ and it _was_. Five of the evanuris, Mythal’s children, were created through normal birthing familiar to you today, but three of us originated as spirits. Mythal was Justice once, Elgar’nan Vengeance, and I was Pride. Ghilan’nain was one of the People, born naturally and raised into godhood by Andruil. Though the word ‘godhood’ is a bit of a misnomer, really. We were none of us divine. Not in truth.”

With a creased forehead, Merrill said, “what you say is sacrilege.”

Solas merely laughed. “Can a god profane himself by denying the validity of the legends told of him? I do not believe it possible. I speak only the truth. We were powerful. We were immortal. We were petulant. But we were never infallible and we were never all-knowing.” He looked down at her runes. “Are we ready to begin?”

Merrill nodded. “I am done. Please be seated.” Merrill took out a leather strap and held it out to her. “You will need this, I am afraid. I wish I could give you something to dull the pain, but it would interfere with the magic.”

Solas kissed her forehead. “Vhenan, are you ready?”

She nodded, closing her eyes and leaning backwards, placing the leather between her teeth.

Merrill began to chant, the words washing over her like the sound of an ocean. She felt her body growing steadily warmer in the places where Merrill had drawn the blood circles. Warmer, and warmer still, until they began to sear.

_I will be glad for the leather when this is done._

Burning, searing, blinding pain radiated from her phantom limb throughout her body. Her blood felt both as fire and ice simultaneously, neither sensation quenching the pain of the other. She cried out, lashing her body.

“Hold her,” Merrill intoned.

Strong arms clutched at her body, pressing her into the seat.

The anchor was nothing compared to this, nor was the pain of losing it. The only comparable pain she had felt was that in her heart when she had looked across the Fade in dreaming to see Solas’s shadow looming, too far away for her to grasp. She felt her eyes rolling back into her head and with a scream, she drifted into unconsciousness.

Dreams did not come to her. She was falling through a sea of blackness, falling endlessly through the void. She could not see her companions nor even her own body. Her eyes had stopped working utterly and she was left with only the sensation of plummeting.

Hours turned into days, which turned into weeks and years. For millennia she plunged, out of time and space. There was no end to the sinking feeling in her stomach, no reprieve from her doom. She was to keep falling, her limbs flailing wildly, unto eternity.

And then as suddenly as it started, it stopped, her body landing against something soft.

She opened her eyes, and two sets stared back at her. Both of the faces they belonged to were lined with worry.

She coughed, startled.

“ _Vhenan_.” Solas ran a hand across her face. “Are you alright?”

She nodded. “I think so. What happened?”

He smiled, glancing at Merrill. “See for yourself.”

She looked down and noticed what his other hand was holding.

_It was hers._

Her right arm was given back to her, exactly as she remembered, every scar and freckle perfectly preserved. She looked at the two elves, smiling down at her.

She threw her arms, _her arms_ , around them both, tears forming in her eyes.

* * *

She approached the desk cautiously. Magister Emrys Allendi’s residence was on the other side of Minrathous, within the Imperial Quarters, where many of the Alti owned manors. Dorian had said he hated the district, and he and Maevaris preferred to live on the edge of the city. The walk to the center was longer, but the denizens far more agreeable.

The Imperial Palace had been nothing short of awe-inspiring, gold coating every structure that wasn’t made from marble, intricate designs covering every inch of the space. Dragons soared above spires, roaring into the air. Intricate metalwork covered all of the doorways. She was almost sure that some of the towers were mostly aloft by magic, only tenuous connections to the surrounding structures were visible.

_How many thousands toiled in obscurity to erect this monument to Tevinter’s power? How many still are on their knees to keep it maintained?_

The Allendi manor was past the palace, down several side streets. She was not yet important enough to have a manor directly adjacent to the center of the Imperium, but she was not far from it even so.

A slender man with a pencil moustache and a head of wild curls twirled his quill, splashing a bit of ink across his desk. He looked around and grabbed a kerchief to wipe it off of the wood. She suspected the item of furniture cost about what the man made in an entire year. She declined to mention that fact.

He, in turn, declined to notice her.

She gave a little cough, trying to get his attention.

He looked up. “Can I help you? Lost? You’ve found yourself in the domicile of the illustrious Emrys Allendi, Magister of the Tevinter Imperium. I am guessing you were looking for something else.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “No, this is precisely where I’m meant to be. I’ve an appointment. I heard there was work to be found here and I’ve found recently found myself in need of some.”

His eyes widened. “Wait, but… I knew you were coming, but nobody told me…”

“That I would be an elf?”

He nodded. “And a woman. You realize that this is a _physically demanding_ position? You’ll be protecting the magister herself.” His voice was more confused than unkind or judgmental, but it did put her on edge nonetheless.

In an instant, she had pulled her blade from its scabbard at her back and brandished it at him. “If the magister is concerned about the prowess of an elven woman, perhaps I am in the wrong place.”

The man blanched and she withdrew her blade, sliding it back into its holster and untying the entire thing. She held her covered sword to him. “I can provide a demonstration later, if you like. I’m assuming you have questions for me.”

He nodded, smiling. “Perhaps you _are_ the person we’ve been looking for. The magister is young, but already she has made enemies. Everyone in the Senate seems to do so. She can protect herself from magical assaults, but the physical ones… We’d rather not take chances. Come along then.”

She followed, dutifully, noting the tapestries on the wall were all of forests and towers that she never remembered visiting, but somehow looked familiar.

She heard Dorian’s voice in her mind.

_“Everything alright there, Inquisitor? Haven’t created any messes that we’ll have a hard time cleaning up?”_

She smiled. _His gadget seems to be working swimmingly._

_“No, nothing to concern you. I just drew a blade on the magister’s secretary.”_

Her confession as met with a brief silence.

_“Please don’t do that again.”_

_“I would never dream of it!”_

She could almost see the mage frowning and shaking his head from across the city.

They crossed hallway after hallway, approaching the interior of the house. Marble floors sparkled under her feet, thin lines of mahogany running on either side of the floor. It wasn’t the most ostentatious display in Minrathous. Its beauty was somewhat more understated than what she had seen thus far. Classical sharp lines and clean edges adorned everything; smooth, clean surfaces, polished such that she could glimpse her reflection as she passed by. Brown hair, long and braided, hung at her back. Her old vallaslin adorned her face, a part of Solas and Dorian’s charm. Solas had given her the visage and it was maintained by her friend’s ring. She nodded her silent approval. She was not likely to be recognized, not that anyone would know to look for Inquisitor Lavellan in a Minrathous servants’ quarters.

“In here, madame.” The slim man held the wide wooden door open for her and she entered. He shut the door, making sure it made no sound as it closed. “I just have a few questions to determine whether we shall need to set up an appointment for you to speak with Magister Allendi.” He indicated a red cushioned chair, elaborately carved.

She took a seat, noting that the chair behind the desk was far more comfortable than the one before it. Her own seat was fashionable, but slightly hard, with a piece of wood sticking into her back. It was likely meant to set the occupant ill at ease, making it even simpler for the questioner to probe for their secrets. 

The man sat, sighing deeply. “I do not believe we have been introduced. I am Tyrstan. I have served the Allendi family for my entire adult life, my mother and father serving them before me, and their parents before them. Protecting Magister Allendi is my top priority. Ensuring her every comfort is my second.” He extended his hand towards her. “And your name?”

She took her hand, a small but wary smile playing on her lips. “Lyanna. I was from the Sabrae clan in the Free Marches, once, but my people exist no longer. I sought refuge from city to city, guarding caravans from bandits, protecting lords and ladies. I came to Tevinter to seek my fortune.” She sighed. “But I’ve learned to settle for putting a bowl of soup or two on the table.”

The man nodded, curls bouncing. “A sentiment I understand well. So, tell me of your training. What makes you think you can keep the Magister safe from harm?”

“I trained with the short staff, all manner of blades, bow, and knife. I can wield them all with proficiency and deadly accuracy. However, it is with a long blade that I truly shine.” She smiled wickedly. “At that I have not been bested since before I gained my blood markings.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure we will see the truth of that soon enough. But I would hear more about _you._ For one, who trained you? And how did a Dalish elf come across a blade like _that_?”

“Well, it may be a surprise to you, but where I come from, elves are _free_. My blade, the one you have in your hand, has been in my family for generations. Since the fall of Arlathan, to hear my grandfather tell it.”

He frowned, his brow knitted together. He waved a hand, urging her closer. “A little warning, because I like your spunk. Spoken to a magister, words like that could get you hanged. I would watch what you say, even to Allendi. She’s got a sense of humor, but it only stretches so far. Insults are enough to warrant bodily punishment and in Tevinter, senators are the judges, juries, and executioners. Now, would you like to answer again?”

_“I’m already getting into trouble here,”_ she thought.

_“I knew I shouldn’t have let you go alone!”_ Dorian said, directly into her mind.

She heard a heavy sigh. _“Do not fear,”_ Solas replied, coolly. _“Should she find herself in danger, I will have no problems extricating her. Even if I have to burn down the entire manor.”_

_“NO!”_ Dorian seemed to yell. _“No burning down of houses! That will defeat the purpose. We are to gather information, not scare of potential targets. Inquisitor, please try to exercise some restraint?”_

_“Of course,”_ she thought. _“My pleasure.”_

She met the man’s eyes, a frown of her own on her face. “The blade was part of my inheritance. I was trained by warriors of my clan after my parents were killed. I eventually left my people and traveled to Kirkwall to seek further training in arms and to try and find the humans who had murdered my family. I was not present when my clan was murdered and I did not return to their lands after they perished. I have thirty years under the sun and have been swinging swords in some fashion for at least twenty-five of them. That should be enough.”

He nodded. “Of course. And what employment have you found yourself in since?”

“I served in the Viscount’s household guard, the Viscount of Kirkwall, of course, for many years. I’ve traveled with caravans, as I had mentioned, carrying supplies of lyrium to the Chantry. I’ve protected nobility and politicians across Ferelden and Orlais. Jobs here and there. I am looking for something more permanent.”

“Well, that can be arranged.” He smiled. “Listen, you don’t seem a terrible person. And I think Magister Allendi will like the idea of a heavily armed elf at her side.” He looked her up and down, appraising her. “A female elf in particular. It will disarm the other magisters. They will have no idea what to make of you.”

“Do such things matter?”

He laughed. “Here? Appearances are the _only_ thing that matter in Tevinter. Power resides with those who are able to convince others that they _possess_ it. You’ll learn this soon enough.”

He pushed his chair backwards, smiling, fingers laced together and held at his waist. “I believe that is enough from me. Magister Allendi is the one who will make the final decision. She will see you in two days’ time, at midday. Should you impress her, you will start the following morning.”

She rose, meeting his eyes.

He smiled, handing her covered blade back to her, hilt facing her. “I hope to see you again.”

“Thank you for your kindness. I will keep them in mind.”

He led her out of the building. “You know, despite what you may think, not all of us Tevene are insensitive to the plight of your people. My grandmother was a slave herself, raised from bondage by the Allendi after my grandfather fell in love with her.”

“An interesting development. A sensitive man working under a magister. And a family of magisters that seem to care for their servants.”

_And she is likely a Venatori. A strange combination, that. One that certainly warrants further investigation._

He chuckled. “We aren’t all cape-wearing evildoers. Some certainly are. But not all. Neither is Allendi, in truth, but you’ll see for yourself soon enough. Do not judge us so harshly.”

She turned to leave, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “I shall keep that in mind. Thank you, Master Tyrstan. Thank you for granting my audience.”

He smiled, giving her a slight wave. “It was no trouble. And Trystan will suffice, I am a master of nothing but myself. Two days hence. Come armed and armored. I am certain you will be tested.”

The heat of the afternoon hit her squarely once she was out of the manor’s cooling spells, breaking into a sweat instantly. Two blocks away, she met Solas at a pastry shop. He had half a dozen small cookies and twice as many chocolates. He had a cup of tea filled with ice in hand and was making a pained face with every sip. She sat with him and he pushed a cup towards her, smiling.

“She emerges unscathed from the lion’s den. I’m glad I didn’t need to spring to your rescue.”

“I can handle myself.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking over her shoulder at the passing crowd. She had noticed that they were the only elves in the café and the other patrons seemed to shift uncomfortably and toss them irritated glances. She caught the eye of a man with a particularly perturbed face and gave him a wink.

He turned away, flushing, and got up to leave.

“That mouth of yours, though.” He laughed. “It’s bound to get us into trouble. You’ve been in rare form since we’ve gotten here.”

She fanned herself, sweating. “It’s either the heat or the simmering weight of oppression. I’m not sure which yet. Perhaps we can find out what other trouble my mouth can stir up, together.”

“Come along. Let us leave the poor tea-drinkers in peace. We will have a better time out of the reach of prying eyes anyhow. We probably shouldn’t do this in such close proximity of our new place of employ, but… We can make an exception for the first day.” He stood offering a hand to her, grinning wickedly. “

She took it, standing with him.

“You know,” he continued, “you make much better tea than this place anyway. But the chocolates... I cannot complain about those.”

She laughed. “Let’s return to Dorian’s. I can make some more tea for you there. Perhaps other snacks?”

He kissed her in full view of the café. “I would like that very much,” he whispered in her ear.

* * *

She had found the iced cream first. It was painfully sweet, though the spice of cinnamon and cardamom helped to cut through the sugar. The strips of cloth had come later, red of course, to match her mood. She gathered them all off and headed up the stairs to their bedroom.

Solas she found reading, as he had been when she’d left him nearly an hour earlier. He hadn’t moved from his position at her desk, sitting away from the doorway, facing the winking sunset. He turned when he heard her approach.

“Vhenan, I have missed you.” He smiled at her advance, setting aside his book on the desk and moving to stand.

“Don’t get up on my account, Solas,” she said, a small grin crossing her lips.

He laughed. “Oh, it’s no trouble.” He moved towards her. “What have you brought me?”

“I actually meant that I’d prefer you seated, love.” She winked and he looked both startled and intrigued.

“I… Yes, of course.” He pulled the chair back towards him, sitting down slowly.

“Ma serranas.”

He cocked his head. “I don’t understand what your intentions are.”

She sat the bowl of ice cream on the desk, pulling out the ribbons from her pocket. “Recreating our mutual fantasy, evidently.” She kissed him softly, tying one around his face to hide his eyes.

“Oh, vhenan… You don’t understand how cathartic this is.”

“Let me guess.” She dropped her voice a few octaves, trying to mimic his ephemeral pattern of speech. “Measured control is all that I have ever known—through the ages I have practiced careful moderation. To relinquish that strength to another, one that I can trust, now that would be truly…”

“Delicious,” he finished. “Not a bad impression, vhenan.” He laughed. “I fear we’ve been spending too much time together.”

“Never enough, Solas.” She tied his wrists together at the back of the chair, his laughter ringing in her ears.

“I only regret that I will not be able to see this.”

She laughed. “We shall see, I suppose. But not knowing is half the fun. You can use your imagination.”

_“Nothing_ I can imagine could ever be as stunning as the real thing. Any vision of you would pale in comparison to its source material.”

She took a bite of ice cream and sat on his lap, her hand running against the length of his cheek. He nuzzled his head against her touch. “Sweet talker.”

Their lips met and he sighed against her. Her tongue was cold and it caused him to shiver as she kissed him. She pulled away suddenly, leaving his mouth wanting more.

“That flavor… That’s really quite nice. Where did you find it?”

“It’s amazing what you can scrounge up in this kitchen. More sweets than Skyhold, certainly.”

“Not a bad thing.”

“No,” she agreed. “Not a bad thing at all.” She held a spoon filled with the cool dessert against his mouth. He opened it, smiling.

_I’m surprised he’s not made of sugar at this point._

“Oh, you know the way to my heart, vhenan.”

“Sweets and light bondage?”

He laughed. “Among other things.”

She shrugged off her tunic, letting it fall to the floor. His head turned slightly at the sound, probably wondering at the meaning.

“It seems I’ve made a mistake already,” she said, giggling.

“Oh?”

She untied her wrists. “I can’t undress you with your arms tied like this.”

He shivered. It was slight and he probably thought she didn’t see it, but she certainly did.

She slipped his own tunic over his head, leaving his chest bare before her. “Much better.” She moved to tie him back up. His grin was balancing on the knife’s edge of alluring and ridiculous.

She dipped her finger in the quickly melting ice cream, running it between his pectoral muscles, down to his belly button. He squirmed from the change in temperature. His movement only intensified when she added her tongue into the picture. She licked off all of the sweet cream from his body, leaving him writhing unseeing beneath her.

Finally, she sat down against him, their bare skin touching. Her hand held the back of his neck to her, her lips searching eagerly. He was just as enthusiastic, tongue tracing his own lips whenever she left him wanting more.

She kissed his freckles, his nose, his ears, before settling on his neck. He tilted his head away from her touch, grinning foolishly. She spooned him another bit of mostly melted ice cream, which he happily consumed.

While he was preoccupied, she began unlacing his breeches, which had always been a challenge one-handed.

_If nothing else, having my hand back will make intimacy easier._

She got them finally, sliding them off his body.

_His legs… Ah, it’s like they were sculpted from marble._

She had a particular affection for a nice leg and Solas happened to deliver on that desire. Quite well, in fact. She had no idea when he found time to exercise between poring over old books, but whatever he was doing was working _infinitely_ well.

_He’d probably say “Fade workout” or something idiotic of the like._

She looked at him, tied, blindfolded, and nearly naked.

_He’s exceedingly lovely. My god…_

She slid off her own breeches before climbing on his lap again and pulling him in for another kiss. She could feel his desire for her growing against her thighs.

_It’s good that women don’t have such an obvious tell. It would ruin the game._

She pulled away and he tried to chase after her, but he was far too slow. She pulled down his smallclothes and took him in her mouth without any preamble.

He shuddered.

She closed her eyes, listening to him moan as her tongue traced runes across his erection. When he seemed unable to stand more, she forced him down her throat, and she felt his body straining against his bindings.

“Let me see you, vhenan,” he whispered, voice heady.

She merely laughed. “And ruin my fun? I don’t think so, love.”

Dropping everything remaining of her clothing to the floor, she began to touch herself, slowly at first, as she pleasured him.

_He looks maddeningly lovely there. And I’m the only one to see it._

It didn’t take long for her to grow wet, her fingers slick. She raised her eyebrows and brought her soaked fingers to his mouth, which he eagerly accepted, a laugh on his lips.

“Mar rodhe ir’on. You tease me.”

She took her hand back, looking him over from head to toe.

_I believe it’s time._

She straddled him, making sure her thighs didn’t touch his legs to avoid giving him a warning, and lowered herself upon him slowly. When he entered her, his body shook with longing, shuddering with surprise.

She reached around his face to untie his blindfold, smiling at him. The look in his eyes was glorious. She threw her head back, laughing, as he beheld her as though for the first time. Her pace was slow, tantalizing, teasing. And it was clear he loved it.

Solas’s eyes were closed, his head reclined. There was nothing for him to do but enjoy her. 

“Vhenan,” he moaned. “You cannot keep going like this. Pala em elvar’el!”

She laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand that phrase, love. Care to explain?”

_A lie, but a pretty one. I’d hear him say it in common._ Much _more vulgar. Everything sounds too beautiful in Elvhen._

He looked at her, fire in his eyes. “Fuck. Me. Harder.” Each word was punctuated distinctly and spat out as though they pained him.

“You aren’t to set the pace here, dear one.”

“ _Please_.”

“Is that a request?”

“Yes, damn you.”

She laughed again, but acquiesced, turning up the pace, taking him deeper. He moaned, shuddering.

“Jupalan ma sule banalan in’em, ma tel’rosa’da’din’el,” she said, looking at him with ferocity.

He gasped. _Gasped_. “Where did you learn that?”

“I heard you speak it once in your dreams.”

“Oh, vhenan…” His body went rigid, his head pulled away from her. She knew he was close.

“I love you,” she whispered.

And that was enough. She felt him clench tightly, his body stiffening before the release.

The look on his face was enough to throw her over as well.

She wrapped her arms around him, crying out and shuddering.

When they were both done, they looked at each other and burst into laughter. She kissed him softly before stepping off of him and undoing his bindings.

“I had no idea that stealing some cookies would turn into this.”

She shrugged. “What can I say? I like a little rebellion.”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Of course you do. I’m quite partial myself.”

“I know.”

“You’re beautiful, you know? And an unholy partner. That was without a doubt the best I’ve had.”

She grinned. “Better than Andruil?”

He nodded, his laugh ringing through the room. “Oh, she’s but an anthill before your veritable mountain of desire.”

“Not every day that one is compared to a goddess. I’ll take that.”

“You are as much a divine being as I am, vhenan. _Herald of Andraste_. You saved the world.”

“With help,” she added, laughter in her voice.

“There are always those who history will forget. Too many names confuse the storytellers.”

“And what will be our story?”

“One of unsurpassed love, I hope. ‘They overcame everything to find it in each other. Saved the world to be together. Fought demons, gods, brought down the evils of the world, all for a good fuck.’”

She snorted, rolling her eyes at him. “And quite a bit more, I hope.”

While they had been distracted, Mirae had snuck out from under the bed, where she had been hiding during their tryst. She saw the puppy licking up spilled ice cream from the floor. She grabbed robes for each of them, wrapping the thin cloth around her shoulders. She picked up the dog and sat her on the bed, with her and Solas joining as well. He ruffled Mirae’s fur, grinning.

He took her hand, pressing to his lips as soft as a whisper. “Yes, ara lath. And quite a bit more besides.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Tevinter, where a prompt about oatmeal cookies somehow morphs into shameless smut. Thanks to [sasshole-for-rent](https://sasshole-for-rent.tumblr.com) for the lovely ask!  
> I take writing prompts sometimes, if you're interested in submitting them! You can also see writing updates, side projects, and artwork (not mine) if you check me out on [Tumblr](https://midnightprelude.tumblr.com).   
> Also brought to you by the new Lana del Rey album, the How to Train your Dragon soundtrack, Shakira, and my dog who repeatedly woke me up at 5 am to work on this. Or to go to the bathroom. Unclear.  
> Dareth shiral, friends.
> 
> Elvhen translations:  
> Fenedhis lasa: lit. go fuck a wolf's dick; in this case, just "fuck"  
> Solas: pride  
> Da'len: address for someone younger  
> Ma serranas: Thank you  
> Mar rodhe ir’on: You taste delicious  
> Pala em elvar’el!: Fuck me harder!  
> Jupalan ma sule banalan in’em, ma tel’rosa’da’din’el: I will fuck you until you empty yourself inside of me and can’t orgasm any longer.   
> Mirae: little thief  
> Ara lath: my love


	18. In the Shadows of Arlathan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. And I said there was only going to be one Solas POV. :P  
> I wasn't lying, I just... didn't plan for another.

Solas squinted against the morning sun peering through the open window of Dorian’s kitchen. The light had come too soon, yet again, and he awoke less rested than when he closed his eyes. He crossed the marble flooring, bare feet light against the cool surface.

“Now where would he...” Solas looked around the room, briefly, before spotting a door that looked like it led to a walk-in pantry. He was not disappointed.

When he threw the door open, he realized that not only could he _fit_ in Dorian’s herb closet, but it wasn’t a closet at all. Stone steps descended into the darkness below. With a wave of his hand, he lit magelight and illuminated the passageway. Down into the cellar he went, hand glowing with magic.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “Perfect.”

He had located Dorian’s collection of herbs. Bottles lined the shelves, carefully labeled with their ingredients. Bundles of elfroot and rashvine hung from the ceiling, drying slowly to preserve their potency. A small desk sat in the corner, papers neatly stacked into different piles across its surface.

_Such things are best used fresh if possible, but his technique is certainly passable._

The entire room was alphabetized and categorized. Dorian even had a _catalogue_ of all of his spices, with noted uses, potion recipes, regions they could be found, and _illustrations._ He had not realized the man could draw, let alone organize his stocks in such a fashion.

_Though, perhaps, his library should have hinted at such._

He had already seen embrium and elfroot, but Dorian seemed to have completely depleted his stock of prophet’s laurel.

Solas pulled the chair from the desk and slumped into it, his body suddenly feeling as though it weighed as much as the entire country of Nevarra. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, forehead resting upon his hand.

_Perhaps I could send for some stronger teas... The potion may not be entirely necessary and I’m left with little other options. I just need to figure out... The Fade... dreams..._

A light touch on his shoulder caused him to start. He stood suddenly, facing a dark-haired woman.

“You have seen better days, I fear, my old friend,” she said, frowning deeply.

He smiled slightly, trying to assuage her concern. “Silea,” he said. “I had never thought I would have the honor of calling your true name in this world.”

“Please, Solas. Do not try to change the subject. I know you haven’t slept, but nor have you gone deep enough into uthenera to draw energy from the Fade. It has been _days,_ Solas. You need to rest.”

He frowned. “You know that I cannot. Not while...” He turned away from Silea, unwilling to meet her eyes. “Not while she is in danger still.”

She looked frustrated. “You think that you are the only one who can protect her?”

He nodded. “You are no erelan, no Dreamer. I could not risk such a thing.”

Silea rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

_I had missed even this about her, when she was gone._

“Even now you elevate your abilities above all others. I can prevent her from slipping into the Fade—have I not done just the opposite for myself for millennia? Cole can help as well and possibly even the human mages. You always try to take everything as a burden upon your shoulders alone. Allow us to help, Solas, please.”

He nodded, sighing, his body falling back into his chair. “I suppose I cannot continue like this. I had hoped I would find something in my readings, but I fear it will be easier to confront the darkness at its source.”

“It will be the Fade, then.” She seemed resolute. “I shall go with you. Cole will keep her safe, Solas. You needn’t worry.”

“No!” he shouted. “I will not have you put yourself in danger. I had thought I lost you once before. I do not wish to go through that pain again.”

A crooked smile crossed her face. “I am allowed to make my own decisions. I have questions of my own I would see answered. And I can handle myself.” A spark of lightning danced from her palms.

“Yes, of course.” He sighed. “I apologize. I feel responsible for what happened to the Inquisitor. I did not want to drag you into my problems. I do not... feel myself.”

She smiled, nodding. “I know. Let me help you, then. You forget that you need not repair the world alone.”

“Fine. I shall rest today. Keep an eye on her. Tonight, if you would like, you may accompany me into the Fade.”

She nodded. “I would have even if you had not permitted it.”

He sighed. “I know. You are a better friend than I deserve.”

“And you give yourself too little credit. And don’t consume any mind-altering substances in an attempt to stay awake.”

He sighed. “ _Fine_ , you are so specific. I’m off to bed. Do you want to follow me there as well?”

She narrowed her eyes. “No. But do not do anything stupid. I will know. I have a sense for such things.”

He stood, slowly, his muscles exhausted from the lack of rest. She followed him up the stairs, not chiding him for his pace. He felt her eyes on him as he made his way slowly back to his room. They only left him when he ascended the final staircase.

He did not even make it to the bed. True to his word, Solas slumped onto the nearest couch in the sitting room and promptly fell asleep.

\--

Solas had awoken feeling moderately better and decided to try and find some fresh air. He was hoping for a bit of silence as well, if truth be told.

Unfortunately, that did not seem likely. Fenris stood alone in the courtyard. An untrained observer would have expected that he was distracted by something, but Solas knew better. The former slave still carried the bearings of a hunted man, hunched as though he could spring at any moment. He likely always would.

Just as he suspected, Fenris immediately turned as soon as Solas had crossed the threshold of the door. He stood in a fighters’ stance, feet slightly further apart than shoulder width, a light bend in his knees in case he would called upon to move quickly. He was just in front of a fountain, water bubbling out of a dragon’s mouth. A pool that could have fit ten men surrounded the dragon.

_The Tevene and their ridiculous displays..._

“Why do you always look as though you’re trying to determine how challenging it would be to take my life?” Solas said, crossing the gardens towards Fenris.

“I do not understand you,” the warrior replied, “and I do not trust anything that I do not understand.”

“You seemed to warm quite quickly to the Inquisitor,” Solas noted. “She told me of your conversation, where you threatened to kill me if I hurt her.”

Fenris’s gaze was immovably fixed upon him. “She does not strike me as the type to harbor an ancient secret or befriend people only to abandon them to destroy the world. And she’s not a mage. These are all marks in her comparative favor.”

He raised his arms in a sign of surrender, but Fenris did not show any sign of loosening his stance. “I suppose you make a fair assessment. Ask what you will of me then. I will tell you truthfully.”

Fenris’s eyes narrowed. “Just like that?”

He shrugged, sitting on a bench. The air was sweet with the smell of roses. “Just like that.”

Fenris made move to sit, preferring to stay several feet away, balancing on the balls of his feet.

“Tell me then, what you are. The Inquisitor says you’re some sort of a god. Merrill believes it. But you are far from any god I have imagined. What are you, precisely?”

He sighed, playing with a stray leaf that had fallen upon the bench. “A man with a terrible burden and a very long history.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows and looked like he was about to leave.

“It’s a question with a long answer. Are you sure you wish to hear it?”

Fenris nodded. “I would not have asked if I had not wanted to stay for its answer.”

Solas leaned on his elbows. “I was a spirit, once, before I took on a human form, nearly eight thousand years ago.”

Fenris scowled. “So, you were an abomination? You speak eloquently for a monster.”

“Ha, thank you, though I’m sure you did not mean that entirely as a compliment. I am _not_ what you would call an abomination. I did not possess anyone in this form. I can change my shape. I will demonstrate.”

Fenris took a few steps backwards.

The air around Solas shimmered and the man was replaced by a wolf, fur as black as midnight and eyes glowing yellow. He padded slowly towards the elven man by the fountain, cautiously. He bent his head down, showing deference and trying to appear less like a five-foot-tall wolf. Solas sat back on his haunches and waited.

Fenris’s eyes widened in disbelief and slowly he took a step forward. His arm was extended tentatively, fingers curled slightly. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense, but still the warrior did not balk and he did not retreat.

Solas pressed his head into the elf’s hand, resting it gently in the palm for the space of three breaths before turning away. The air shimmered again and Solas was a man once more.

“You have considerably more hair in that form, I must admit.”

Solas rolled his eyes. “I look this way of my own volition, I’ll have you know.”

Fenris nodded. “I’m sure that’s it. Not that you were going bald. So, you took a body. What then? That’s enough to make you a god in your land of ancient, magical elves?”

Solas shook his head, frowning. “No, I was a slave, first.”

“Do not mock me,” Fenris said, the hint of a smile he had almost given was gone in an instant.

“Believe me, it is not my intention. You asked for the truth and I gave you my word you would have it.” He transformed again, into the man he had been when he still had his markings. His hair was long, shorn at the sides, beads woven through his hair, piercings in his long ears. He knew Mythal’s markings would be on his forehead, running down his arms, across his chest. She had removed them bit by bit over time, as he had fulfilled his service to her, as he had proven himself a loyal subject. The last set to leave him were those on his face.

“Those markings... They are like what the Dalish wear, are they not? I have never seen them so extensively covering any of the other...”

“Except your own,” Solas noted. Fenris’s markings covered exactly as much skin as his own, from what he could see. He was sure they would be similar underneath his clothing as well.

“Well, yes.”

He raised his arm, looking over the light blue lines that crossed his skin. Winding vines and branches decorated every inch of his body—there was nothing that was unmarked when he took his original form. He remembered sitting silently, pulling his mind away from his newly acquired body to escape from the pain. “These are Mythal’s markings. I believe your markings are based on those we had in Arlathan. A bastardization by the lovely Tevinter magisters grasping for power. Ours branded every slave and gave their masters utter control over their bodies. The more skin the marks covered, the less control the slave possessed. When I first came into my body, Mythal took me in and gave me my markings. I trained as an arcane warrior. I was her constant companion, her bodyguard, and eventually her commander. She gave me more freedom than most, but it was always illusory.”

Fenris fingered the pommel of his greatsword. “Then we are not that different, you and I.”

“We are in a few important respects. My markings offered me no advantages except the knowledge that the only people who could kill me without repercussions were the evanuris, our gods, themselves.” His frown deepened, his eyes downcast. “And my master was far kinder than yours. I’m sorry to say that although the Tevene may have perfected the institution of slavery, it long predated them, even stretching back to our own ancient people.”

Fenris shook his head, his own eyes growing distant. “The powerful will always find ways to grind down the weak, no matter their origins. I do not enjoy thinking on it.”

“Nor do I. We do not belong in chains. Nobody does.”

When Fenris’s eyes met his again, they had ignited. An uncommon fire graced the man’s very presence, his ferocity radiating from his skin. “A sentiment we can agree on.”

Solas saw his own reflection in Fenris—another man who had given up all trace of himself to an ideal, only to find that it rang hollow in the end.

“And one we have both spent our lives fighting for.” Solas smiled.

Fenris nodded. “And shall continue to do so. Though, hopefully not at the exclusion of all else.”

“No, we have both learned our lessons, I believe.”

“Even if it took far too long.”

“Certainly.”

“What do you know of me, mage?”

“I know that who you were was forcibly ripped from your chest at the same time that those markings were given to you. I know you suffered years of repeated wounding, emotional and physical. I know you escaped and vowed to never allow yourself to be captured again. And you’ve fought against those who would put others in your situation.” He paused, standing. “But those are just the facts. I also made inferences. You have difficulty allowing yourself to be cared for. That much is evident.”

“Is that why you left her as well?” Fenris asked, softly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The Inquisitor. You left her without a word.”

“Perhaps that was one reason. I also thought that she could find happiness with another. Maybe she would have, in time.”

“She chose you and you abandoned her.”

“I did. There is not a moment I do not regret my decision in that matter. Let us return to the previous conversation, if you do not mind. I prefer to speak on that one as little as possible. What do you know of _me_? I cannot imagine that your master was forthcoming with the legends the Dalish tell.”

“He was not. I know very little. Your name was Fen’Harel, Dread Wolf. You were some god of deception, were you not?”

Solas laughed. “See, this is a way in which the metaphorical language of Elvhenan fails us. My name can be interpreted several ways, depending upon the context. ‘Har’el’ can refer to something fearsome or prone to lie, but the original meaning was quite different. I was not the god of deception, as my fellow evanuris would have believed. I was the god of _rebellion_. I fought the slavers on behalf of my people and nearly sacrificed myself for them. Anything else is propaganda from my detractors, who would have the rest of my people believe that my promise of a better life was naught but subterfuge. I genuinely believed that I could improve the lot of my people. I have believed such throughout history. My origin made me unique among the evanuris—I understood the plight of our people, even if I was never subject to its greatest ills. Mythal largely sheltered me, but I knew that this outcome was more of a factor of luck than anything else.

“I will not bore you with ancient wars of which you likely know nothing. Let us begin more recently. What do you know of the Canticle of Shartan? I am assuming it is a tale told little in the Imperium.”

Fenris frowned. “No, I knew nothing while I lived with Danarius, though I was gifted a book during my time in Kirkwall. It still sits unread, until my literacy improves.”

“An unfortunate circumstance and one that we should remedy while we are here. It makes sense that the Tevene do not speak of him, but much of the fault lies with the Southern chantry. After the Exalted March, he was sponged from their Chant of Light completely. But I know the true story. You would have liked the man. You have much in common, after all.”

Fenris nearly smiled again. Not quite, but nearly. “Oh? Do tell.”

Solas found himself mimicking the man’s expression of _near_ satisfaction. “Shartan was born into slavery, but led a number of small revolts against the Imperial masters. Eventually he gained the notice of Andraste and they struck an alliance. The Chantry would have you believe that Andraste felled the empire on her own, but they forget the importance of the elven slaves. You see, while Andraste’s forces were strong, Shartan led to the fall of Tevinter in truth.

“Years of planning led to his masterstroke. Between dawn and dusk, all of the slaves in Minrathous fled the city in droves, running to the hills to join Andraste’s army. Those who could not escape or be rescued, killed themselves. In an instant, Tevinter was crippled, its economy decimated, its workers disappeared, and its magisters deprived of their source for blood magic. They didn’t stand a chance. And though the city did not fall, the damage was irrevocable. The empire, despite its strength, became the underdogs on the Valerian Fields. All because of Shartan’s movements. The elves made an incredible sacrifice, but it led to their freedom, at least for a short while.”

Fenris cocked his head, eyes narrowing. “You act like you knew him.”

“I did, in a fashion,” Solas said, gazing at the fountain. “We never met in waking, but I often visited him in the Fade whilst he slept. He came to me for advice and I offered what little knowledge I could. Seeing my people in chains nearly broke me. Watching them rise again gave me the hope I had forgotten I possessed.” He looked intently at the other man. “ _You_ give me hope, as well, actually. You remind me much of him, though I fear your mistreatment has cost you too much, made you too angry. I am sorry. It never should have happened.”

“To what do you refer? My internment as Danarius’s pet?”

“Everything. The fall of Arlathan can be heaped upon my shoulders. The enslavement of our people. The Exalted March. The Breach. The Anchor. All of it was my doing, inadvertently or directly, it makes no matter.” He sighed, his body feeling heavy.

Fenris smirked. “You do not sound like a very adept god of rebellion, then.”

Solas let out a pained laugh, his eyes downcast. “Indeed, I do not.”

“And what makes you think you have a chance of succeeding this time?”

“She does,” he said softly. “If anyone can reshape the world for the better, it is our Inquisitor. She’s done it once already. She can do it again. I will do all I can to help her in this quest.”

“Is that not quite a burden to put on her shoulders?”

“Would you give that task to another, then? Do not mistake my faith in her as contentment with her duties. I want nothing more than to slip out of the world with her, to hide away from all of the pains that I have caused, to finally give her the shred of happiness she deserves. But you’ve met her. As long as there is suffering in this world, she will not rest. It is kinder in the end to support her on this journey.”

Fenris grinned in truth, his eyes sparkling. “Thank you.”

Solas looked at him, eyebrow raised. “And what would you be thanking me for?”

“The two of you, as daft as you are, give me some shred of hope that things can get better. That _maybe_ , no other children will grow up knowing only chains.”

Solas returned his smile, the first the two men had ever shared. “Thank _you._ For believing in a future that you by all accounts should have given up on long ago.”

Fenris turned to leave the garden, giving Solas a curious glance as he walked past. “I have yet to be broken, Solas, and I shall not be while I draw breath.”

\--

They stood together, the two former spirits, shadows against the backdrop of a green-tinted sky. The Fade shaped itself around him, recognizing him for what he was. A Dreamer, the most powerful the world had made, tempered by thousands of years of wandering through the wasteland alone. He could move through the world of spirits as others moved through the waking world, easier even. Cities erected themselves before him. Mountains would form and be crushed into dust again with a mere thought. He could create entire worlds inside of the Fade, those he could keep free of the ill-intents that plagued Thedas. This place of nothingness had been his home for so long, was his home in truth between Arlathan and meeting _her_. After the latter, however, what had once seemed rife with possibilities seemed but a shallow conjuring.

_But once I knew her, I learned quickly that I could travel the world and it would never satisfy me like the sight of her smile, the feeling of her embrace, or the sound of her words._

He had a glimmer of an idea of where they would need to go in order to find answers. It was not somewhere he _wanted_ to see again. The place she had described from her dreams sounded like one he had known as well as his own markings, once. The construction of the city in the clouds was the event that spurred his awakening as a spirit, after all. The heart of his civilization. Its loss left echoes throughout the history that came afterwards, leading itself to fragments of legends told by the descendants of those who had walked its streets.

_Arlathan. The home of the People._

He had constructed visions of it in memories, of course, over the years, but had never traveled back to its representation in the Fade. He knew it would be dangerous—so many lives lost at once would always leave a scar in the spiritual world, even when the injury was forgotten among those in waking. It would be folly to go unprepared and exhausted, but he was at heart a desperate fool. He had no idea how long he would be able to keep the predator that haunted her at bay, and he refused to allow it any more time than he already had.

Cole watched over her in the natural world, while he and Silea moved through the Fade. It had been her suggestion that led him to this course of action.

_Was it not the place where this all began, she had said. Of course, she was correct. Mythal’s temple, where she had fought the shade of him, was just outside of Arlathan. The figure that had confronted the Inquisitor in her first dream was likely in the main square of the city, where they used to host revels and condemn misbehaving slaves. The sunken chamber where she had nearly drowned was likely one of the temples that collapsed deep below the city after the Veil had fallen and nothing was holding it aloft any longer. And the eluvians..._

Everything led him to Arlathan. There, he hoped they would find the answers they had been seeking.

The soft grass of the overgrown path felt cool against his bare feet. He tried not to think on how long it would have been since dreamers traveled to this part of the Fade. None in the waking world but him would know Arlathan, not truly. None except those like the former spirit walking by his side.

Silea spoke first, softly, breaking him out of his reverie. “You must tell me what happened after… I lost my form.” She sighed. “We had never spoken on it before.”

They crossed through the forest surrounding the city. He knew it would be about an hour before the two of them would reach the great bridge that allowed pedestrians to cross into the floating city without the use of the eluvian network. He may possess control of many of the mirrors in the waking world, but he did not control any in this section of the Fade. No, unfortunately, they would need to walk. He did not want to Fade step into unknown territory, where he could not see the threats. Walking, however, gave her the opportunity to continue her interrogations.

_I suppose I cannot remain silent forever._

“We defeated Corypheus, but his orb was broken. I sought out the last remaining shard of Mythal’s spirit and took it for myself. She was too weak—had split herself too many times to hold it in that body any longer.”

She held a hand up towards him. “You know that is not what I meant. You asked me for my advice, once, before I was compelled to serve those humans. I gave it to you. Do you remember what I said or has time taken that away from you too?”

He sighed. “You told me that to judge a world without knowing it was the height of folly. And I thought I knew the world. I did not think it was worth trying to salvage the havoc I had caused. Better to begin again.”

Silea raised her eyebrows. “You also asked about _her._ And I advised you that sometimes the heart sees wisdom more clearly than the head.”

He sighed. “You do not need to gloat.”

“I am not gloating. I just want you to remember that I was correct, again, and you chose not to listen.” Her dark brown eyes were simultaneously serious and full of laughter. She _enjoyed_ proving him wrong, enjoyed their verbal sparring. “What did you tell her of your plans? When you left her side for the last time. What did she say to you in return? I felt you alone in the Fade, when I was rebuilding myself. I have never known such sorrow. Not even when you first slipped into uthenera.”

He looked ashamed, unwilling to meet her gaze. “She did not know. I told her nothing.”

“Except that you were leaving?” She placed a hand on his shoulder. It was not a demand that he meet her gaze, but a supplication. She wished to understand him and to help him if she could.

He relented, feeling his own face fall under her stare. “Not even that. I knew that she would try and convince me to stay. And I knew, with every fiber that holds me to this world, that if she asked me to continue at her side, I would have been powerless to resist.”

“Because you wanted to.” She smiled sadly, her lips only upturned at the slightest angle.

“I did.”

“You should’ve listened to that part of yourself, Solas. For too many years you have let grief devour your spirit, leaving you clinging desperately to a sliver of a memory. You do not need to forget it entirely to find a seed of peace among the detritus, but I _do_ implore you to _permit_ it to take root.”

“I am _trying_ Sil.”

“You should try _harder_. Letting me help is a start.” She turned her eyes back to the path and his followed.

He sighed, hoping to shift the conversation. “We are nearly there. Arlathan awaits.”

She moved closer to him. “Indeed, it does. Are you ready?”

“I will never truly be.”

They scaled the final ridge and the city was before them, if it could even be called that. The towers had fallen, a great hole was leveled in the glass bridge that connected the city to the ground. The lake surrounding the city had dried, leaving an ashen wasteland. Everything was varying shades of darkness and the air itself seemed thicker.

He exchanged a glance with Silea. “Welcome home,” he said, heart heavy in his chest.

“Ir abelas, Solas.”

He shook his head. “It is _I_ who is sorry, dear friend. I had never seen it before. I avoid this place, cursed as it is. Too many memories linger here, my own and those of the people who will eternally wander the broken parapets.”

She smiled, ever so slightly. “I hope we don’t slice open those old wounds in vain, then.”

They crossed the bridge in silence, dread heavy in the air. He felt his pulse quickening as they approached the city. The once gleaming towers were covered in dust and ash. Seeing the ruins caused his heart to sink lower.

They had nearly crossed the threshold. Solas was a step away from entering the city, when they heard a rumbling. He looked up at the crumbling buildings before him.

Out of one erupted a great dragon, flying straight into the air. It was followed quickly by its twin, bursting from an adjacent temple, swirling in circles around the first. They were both dark of color, blackness against the midnight of the city. With a roar, the twins loosed their flames, green and blue lighting the sky with an unholy glow.

“Fen’Harel,” the voice said, distorted beyond recognition. “You stole that which does not belong to you. Another of your many crimes.”

“We have come to reclaim it,” the second offered. “Stand down, and perhaps you will be allowed to live. And if you’re lucky, we will deign to _not_ eat your friend.”

Solas shared a look with Silea, his staff materializing. “We did not come here to bandy words with you. Unless you can offer me something more interesting than that, I’m afraid I’ll be forced to destroy you both.”

The dragons landed heavily upon the least broken building before them, a glorious temple that once held stained glass panels depicting the rise of each of the evanuris. He noted that the one that had once been his had been broken out of its frame, its remnants glittering on the ground. The temple began to shake.

The dragons were clearly laughing. “And by what power do you think you can defeat _us,_ Wolf? You were always the smallest, least significant of the evanuris. Do you think time has changed that fact?”

He smiled. “I would stake my life on it.”

Silea looked at him, fear in her dark eyes.

He looked at her, speaking softly and quickly, so that their predators could not hear. “We need only distract them long enough to see if they know anything. At the first sign of danger or if we learn what we need, we awaken.”

She nodded, summoning a blade of lightning in her hands.

“It has been so long since we’ve danced that I do not remember which of you I fought last. Dirthamen, perhaps? I always had trouble telling you apart, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

He laughed, the corners of his mouth upturned ever so slightly in a smile.

The larger of the two dragons, likely Falon’Din, roared in protest. “You will rue this day, Wolf!”

He slammed his staff into the ground. “Su an’banal i’ma! It is where you belong, _Archdemon_.”

The cracks in the earth began to appear immediately, creating a hole that swallowed the ancient church upon which the dragons sat. The air filled with the sound of breaking glass, just as the giant chasm filled with the building that had just sat atop it. As the building crumbled, the dragons sprang into the air, flying in circles around the two people below.

Solas and Silea cast simultaneous barriers as the two dragons let loose a jolt of flame hurtling towards them. They smiled at each other, ever so slightly.

“Who do you serve that you would risk yourselves against me?” Solas yelled into the wind, safely behind their barriers.

Falon’Din, the larger, he was sure, let out another roar. “ _Risk ourselves against you_?! You’ve always been an arrogant fool, clutching at the tailcoats of your betters.”

“We were given the opportunity to end you, and we shall.” Dirthamen replied, his voice like grating stones. “Her power is all that shelters you. Without it, you are useless to us, though there are others who would prefer you alive. At least in some fashion.”

Falon’Din’s laugh sounded like thunder. “Though _we_ would prefer to present your charred corpse.” The great dragon changed his flight pattern more suddenly than should have been possible of a beast of his size. He flew at the mages on the ground.

Solas looked at Sil and nodded and they both dropped their barriers. With a flourish of his staff, he released a wave of air strong enough to toss the woman into the air, blade held aloft. She landed on the dragon, holding tightly to his spikes with one hand. She arched her back, dark hair streaming behind her like a banner, and buried her blade into its neck, right between the scales.

Falon’Din let out a mighty howl and Sil’s triumphant look turned into one of terror. She stood, leaping off the flailing animal.

Solas, as quick as thought itself, dropped his staff, moved through the Fade, used his magic to slow her descent and caught her in his arms. He looked up, turning his wrist quickly to cast another barrier as Dirthamen flew at them with another bout of green fire, running across the edges of the shield. He could feel the heat even within the safety of the barrier.

“Tell me why you chase her!” he shouted, helping Silea back to her feet.

Falon’Din was lying atop another building, several blocks away. It appeared he was trying to reach his head around to lick the wound at the back of his neck, but it was just coming up short. He did not appear ready to continue the fight. He looked back to his immediate surroundings. Silea conjured another blade, holding it at the ready. Dirthamen circled back in a wide arc, flapping his giant wings directly over them, buffeting their clothing in the wind created by the dragon.

Dirthamen scowled, if it could be said that a dragon could look angrier than they already did. “You think we are interested in your little _plaything_? She’s of no concern to us. A flea in a garden of gods. No, she was never our target, _felasil_. We aimed for a bigger catch than your little Dalish laimsa. We knew you would come if she were threatened.” He laughed again. “And you did. So predictable. You escaped once, with your little trick, but you shall not again. Not while I draw breath.”

The dragon rounded on them, drawing in air for another burst of flame. He ran to Sil.

“NOW,” he shouted.

They opened their eyes in Dorian’s mansion, their bodies covered in sweat. They sat up to look at each other, before bursting into laughter, more from stress and exhaustion than from actual enjoyment.

“If I had known that was what taking a body would get me, I would have done it sooner. There is no way I could have done that as a spirit of Wisdom. It would have broken me.”

He shook his head. “A physical body is far easier to kill, though. Try not to forget that. I believe we will be facing them again, soon enough, and likely not just in dreams.”

Her smile faded away. “Dareth shiral, old friend.”

“On nydha, Silea. Ma serranas.”

Her smile returned again, if not as broad as before. “Ma melava halani. We shall need to prepare for the battles to come.”

He sighed. “Indeed.”

_But at least there was something he had learned._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends!  
> Sorry for the slightly late update! This chapter gave me some trouble for some reason. I will try to post later this week, because I will be out of town this weekend and likely not writing. If you need more adventures, be sure to check out my other works here or say hi on Tumblr! I post status updates on my writing there as well as previews. Plus art. Lots of art.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! No smut this week, unfortunately. But, a cool dragon fight and A FENRIS/SOLAS CONVERSATION is nice too, yeah?  
> I also was really stoked to post this so the editing is even more light than usual. XD  
> Dareth shiral,  
> -MP
> 
> Elvhen translations:  
> uthenera: dreaming; the state Solas was in for lots... and lots of years between the Veil being put up and a year before Inquisition  
> Ir abelas: I am sorry  
> Su an’banal i’ma: To the Void with you  
> Felasil: One slow of mind  
> Laimsa: lost one; slave; oppressed one  
> Dareth shiral: safe journey  
> On nydha: goodnight  
> Ma serranas: Thank you  
> Ma melava halani: You helped me; archaic phrase meaning "you're welcome"


	19. Lyrium Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends, its been some time.  
> A short chapter, which I feel is probably better than none at all.   
> I've got a status update on myself at the end of the chapter if that's the sort of thing that interests you.

Getting used to her new arm was going to take about as much effort as getting used to the absence of it. She found herself forgetting that her right arm had been returned to her in a fashion, with Merrill’s and Solas’s careful work. It did not hurt, but she was not used to the sensation anymore. She had to constantly remind her new muscles how to hold a pen properly, how to wash her hair, how to undo her laces. Life was full of tiny inconveniences, but at least how hopefully they would be reduced.

After another uneventful night’s sleep, she was combing out her hair, preparing for the day. Cole had stayed with her last night, to give Solas some rest. He had not truly slept in days and was beginning to show it. She had not seen Solas at all that morning. She hoped he was tucked away in some dark corner, finally recovering from their ordeal.

She doubted it, but she still wished for it regardless.

Finally ready, she descended the stairs into the kitchen. Sunlight was streaming in through the open windows, a gentle breeze buffeting the sheer curtains. Fenris was up already, an apple in hand, but the room was otherwise empty.

“Inquisitor,” he said with slightly more cheer than usual. “I had an idea for how we might spend the morning, if you do not have other plans.”

She grabbed a plum, some cheese, and bread and sat beside him at the table, banging her right arm against the chair as she sat. “Oh? What did you have in mind? I’m to meet with Magister Allendi in the afternoon, but my morning is still unoccupied.”

He chuckled. “I saw that maneuver as you were trying to get into your chair. You’re out of practice, with both hands, but especially your right. Chances are, you’ll be asked for a demonstration. You should warm up your muscles. And I can correct your form.”

“ _Correct my form_?” Her eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you presuming quite a bit with that statement?”

He smiled, a wry grin crossing his face. “No, I don’t believe I am. I trained for _years_ , Inquisitor, under the best masters that Danarius could afford.” He spat the magister’s name, but otherwise maintained an even tone. “And he could afford quite a bit. Even without the lyrium markings, I have not yet met my match in physical combat.”

She laughed, her face lightening. “So you challenge an until-recently one-armed warrior? Not very sporting of you.”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “Well, I thought you could probably use some practice. I would not want you to fail whatever test this magister has planned for you and risk ruining our entire operation. Especially when I have elected to _enter a magister’s household_ , might I add. I had not thought I would ever do such a thing again and I do not relish it. Let us not allow this opportunity to be wasted.”

“Point well made, Fenris. Allow me some breakfast and I shall join you.”

He took another bite from his apple, not a drop of juice spilling on his skin. “Oh, no need to rush. I can perfectly content waiting for you here.”

She gazed at him curiously, biting into her plum, not nearly as successful at keeping herself clean. She looked around and dabbed at her chin with the edge of the tablecloth. “Is there... something you wish to discuss?”

“No,” he said, while not dropping his eyes from hers.

She raised an eyebrow, her mouth upturned into a wry grin. “Are you certain you don’t wish to tell me of how you were able to make up with Hawke?”

She made quick work of the plum, avoiding making so much of a mess.

Fenris snorted. “Oh, that? It was simple. I knocked on his door. He opened it. Then I asked him if he would sleep with me.”

She cocked her head in disbelief. “Truly?”

Fenris laughed. “No. My attempt at a jest. It seems it was a feeble one, at best.”

“You were… joking?” Her crystal laugh echoed through the room harmonizing with his deeper one. “What has happened to sullen and brooding?”

“I assure you that I still possess those characteristics. I just thought you could use some levity given recent events.” He looked at her intently, frowning. “We were… all of us were concerned.”

Her grin widened and she nearly pulled him into a hug, but thought better of it at the last moment. “Oh, Fenris. I appreciate the care. You’re a good friend.”

“I… thank you for saying so. I don’t have the honor of having many...” The word seemed hard for him to say and he hesitated, seemingly rolling it around in his mouth before saying it aloud. “Friends. A hazard of my employ, I suppose. They don’t usually survive long when I make them.”

“Well, I hope that we can break the trend. We’re all friends here, Fenris, and you’re of our company. So you should get used to having too many people to worry over and to worry over _you_. That’s the way of the Inquisition. And I’m proud to have you with us, even if it’s only temporary.”

“It may not need be temporary, depending upon how the work here goes.”

She couldn’t contain herself and she embraced him. He stiffened immediately, taught as a bowstring, before relaxing ever so slightly. He patted her on the back. “I was hoping you would say that, friend.”

Fenris was smiling, barely, when they sat back down.

Finishing up the last of her breakfast, she stood, gesturing to him. “Let’s be off then. Don’t want to postpone my inevitable defeat.”

He chuckled. “I can hold back, if you wish.”

She looked at him seriously. “No. At first, while we warm up, but then I would like to actually practice.”

“I don’t want to injure you before you meet with the magister.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I may have only had one arm, but do not underestimate me.”

He turned, opening the door to the kitchen and holding it open for her, gesturing for her to continue through the threshold. “We shall see the level of your skill, soon enough. Idle threats will not make me fear you.”

She laughed. “Those were mostly for my own confidence, not for you.”

“Even so.”

It took several minutes to cross the grounds of Dorian’s estate from the kitchens to the practice yard. Honestly, it seemed strange for a magister to have them on his property—she’d never seen Dorian use hand-to-hand combat. He did have guards, however. Whatever the reason, she was grateful for the open space that was mostly secluded from the rest of the household. She didn’t want spectators.

She was mildly disappointed when a voice cut through the morning air.

“Oh, it’s my favorite elfies!” Sera came bounding through the yard from the direction of the archery field. She had three throwing knives in each hand. She forgot to set them down before throwing her arms around the Inquisitor, launching them both backwards.

Fenris snagged the knives from her before they both got sliced. “Sera…”

Sera looked up, stared down the scowling warrior with the blade longer than she was tall, and poked him in the nose. “You know why you’re one of my favorites, Prickly?”

He shook his head, frowning.

“All these others talk talk talk talk talk. They hardly ever shut up, the whole lot of them. Skinny Dalish mage is all blushy and never stops _yammering._ And half of it I can’t make out for the life of me, random as anything. But nobody is worse than Baldy. He _never_ shuts up and it’s always ‘Elfy this and elfy that and you’re not as good as my elfies’ and grumpy face and ‘Sera what did you do to my tea’.”

She looked at Sera, grinning. “Sera, what _did_ you do to Solas’s tea?”

Sera shrugged. “Well, I didn’t piss in it, if that’s what you’re thinking. Dorian and I…” She grinned wickedly. “He concentrated some embrium and some of those peppers he’s always munching on and Baldy went running around for water, but we took out all the taps in his room. Oh, it was _bloody brilliant_.”

She raised an eyebrow towards Sera. “You’re telling me that Dorian orchestrated this little venture?”

“Oh, yeah, actually.” Sera laughed. “He said it was payback for him ‘having a staff shoved so far up his arse that you can see it down his throat’.”

Fenris was also looking at her quizzically at this point. “He said _that_? Are you sure?”

“Oh, something like that anyway. He was mad at Baldy, you know. And a little mad at _you_ for taking him back so easily.”

She sighed. “I know. I _know_ he was mad at Solas. We have spoken on it.”

“I’m mad at him too, and I didn’t even know you then,” Fenris added.

She sighed, frustration building. “Must we rehash this topic every damned day?” Hands on her hips, she looked at Fenris. “I thought we were going to spar, not criticize my romantic inclinations.”

Fenris unsheathed his sword, moving to set it aside and pull another, less massive blade from the rack. “We were. You’re right, we’ve chattered enough. Sera, are you going to watch?”

Sera grinned. “You bet your skinny arse I am.” She looked between the two of them, considering. “Sorry Quiz, but my money is on tall and broody over there. I feel like he could kill you just by looking at you funny.”

She sighed. “No offense taken. And Fenris, you can use your normal blade. We don’t need blunted steel. I can set a barrier.”

Fenris frowned. “You’re a mage now as well? That’s honestly a bit of a disappointment. And I was beginning to like you.” His slight smile at the end of the phrase told her that he wasn’t _terribly_ angry.

Nodding, she reached a hand towards his blade. It really was huge, but surprisingly light. She ran a hand over it and it shimmered with green light. He tried to touch the surface of the blade, but could not feel the edge. “I’m not much of a mage, but I’m learning. I can set barriers and cast illusions when I focus for about an hour, but that’s really it. I’m not going to be a great talent, but it could be a useful skill.”

“Useful, but dangerous. Mages… They can be corrupted so easily. Be careful, Inquisitor. I’ve seen firsthand the damage that a wounded mage can wreak.” Fenris placed a hand on her shoulder. “You need to be stronger than the rest of them. You’re too important to fall to those vices. If anyone can, it’s you. But be careful.”

She nodded, frowning.

_He cares, somehow. I’m not sure when exactly it began but… I appreciate it. It’s good to have a friend who wasn’t there… Who sees me as more than a symbol._

“I will be, Fenris. I assure you. If I fall to temptation, I want you to promise me something, okay?”

“Without telling me what I’m agreeing to, I can hardly be expected to say yes.”

“If I fail to keep the demons at bay, kill me. Don’t hesitate. Solas, Dorian, the rest of them, they’ll hesitate. You cannot. That’s your burden.”

His expression was grim. “You would put that on _me_? What right do I have for that task? I do not want it.”

She sighed. “It’s not about rights, Fenris. It’s about duty. You’ll be the only one who can manage it. Promise me, okay? I turn into an abomination and you ram that sword through me.”

His voice was quiet when he answered. “Not all abominations are… evil. I will use my judgement. I once knew… But it’s no matter now. He’s gone. I don’t know where. I’m not sure I would have called us friends, but I respected him, in the end. He was a damned deluded fool, but… He never stopped being a good man. That’s what made him so dangerous.”

“Are you speaking of Anders?” Varric had mentioned the apostate, though it was usually not in glowing terms. He was upset about what happened in Kirkwall and rightfully so, even if something needed to be done about the Circle there. “What would you do if you saw him again?”

Fenris looked away, considering. “I would…” He paused, running his hand over the hilt of his blade. “I would apologize, for being blind to his suffering. For my cruelty. And I hope he would do the same.”

She smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder this time. “You know, Fenris, it _does_ sound like you were friends.”

“Perhaps we were and we just didn’t realize it until it was too late.”

She pulled him into their second embrace of the morning. It may have been turning into a very strange habit. “If you’re both still alive, it’s never too late.”

He nodded. “I shall think on your words, Inquisitor.”

It could have been a trick of the light, but she could have sworn that his eyes had become just a little less dry.

“Oh, stop all of this _talking_ and hit each other already!” Sera had moved towards the benches at the edge of the yard and was tearing grass out from the ground and throwing it into the air absently. “It’s not like we have all day, here!”

She grinned. “Shall we dance, then?”

“It would be my pleasure, Inquisitor.”

She unsheathed her blade, casting a barrier along its surface before readying her grip. It felt so strange to hold a sword in _both hands_ again. She had not been practicing much since she had lost her arm. It had only been several weeks, but it felt like nearly a lifetime. With her right hand near the cross guard and her left steadying the pommel of the sword, she stood in a relaxed stance, light on her feet and ready to move quickly. Fenris would be _incredibly_ fast; she could tell just by his normal movements and she had heard of how the lyrium markings had affected him. He would be dangerous in a true fight. She was glad that they were on the same side.

He stepped to the side, circling her. She did not allow him to leave her sight. She kept her eyes on his shoulders and legs, not on his face. He was good enough, she knew, to show one motion on his face and a completely different one in the rest of his body. Fenris was particuarly distracting, with all of the crisscrossing markings on his skin. They would draw her eyes away from his musculature, which was a subtle added benefit to the warrior. She had to pay extra attention to keep her mind on his entire body, trying to predict his motions without becoming overly fixed on one thing. She circled him in turn, trying to give little away.

She lifted her blade and he tapped his against hers, a gentle practice.

“Good stance. Good form so far, but we’ve hardly begun moving.” He raised an eyebrow. “I do wonder...”

“At what?” she said.

He lunged suddenly and she sidestepped to avoid his oncoming blade. “At your footwork.”

She turned, bringing her blade to his exposed side, but he had already recovered, blocking her. Fenris would always win in a test of strength; his blade was massive and the elf had both height and raw strength on her. He was also, with his markings, much faster.

“No magic today, eh Fenris?” she called. “I would fight you without any of your usual lyrium-infused tricks.”

He laughed. “Do you think the magisters will give you the same treatment? I think not.” He began to glow and was suddenly at her side, ribbing her in the stomach.

She grunted, scowling. “I suppose not. But that doesn’t count. We hadn’t set the terms yet.”

Sera laughed from the bleachers. “I’m putting _all_ of my money on elfy now.”

“Sera, we’re all elves, here. And you don’t have much money to speak of.”

“No, but I will when this is over! That one is tough.”

She looked at Fenris, holding the sword that was nearly as large as he was and thinking on his words of forgiveness. He had forgiven Hawke. He was forgiving Anders. He was agreeing to spy on a magister’s household, despite knowing the danger they were all in.

_Fenris may very well be the toughest of all of us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mental health, depression, BPD
> 
> I've had a few people ask about Imperium and wanted to give a status update on how things were going and the reason for my sudden, unexplained hiatus.
> 
> When I began writing Imperium, I stopped being able to sleep for about 6-8 weeks and was averaging ~2 hours/night. Some of this is from the excitement of writing, but much of it is from overwork in other elements of my life. Eventually I made it in to a psychiatrist and was diagnosed with (at best) stress induced hypomania and (at worst) bipolar disorder. I've had depression for at least a decade, but this was my first instance of mania. It was pretty frightening, honestly. Around the time I stopped writing Imperium, I was coming off of that high and entering a brief but intense depressive phase. I couldn't focus enough to write the long, detailed chapters that Imperium requires and writing a long fic is a pretty lonesome endeavor at times. I started working on shorter pieces with friends and writing one-shots, as that's what I have the focus for these days.
> 
> I have Imperium outlined to the very end and I will finish it one day, but I strongly hope that I never match the productivity I had when I first started. It was dangerous and has taken months for me to recover. I'm not there yet, but I'm getting better.
> 
> I'm not going to hold myself to an update schedule. I need to prioritize my mental health. But do know that I miss you, miss these characters, and have plans for their adventures. 
> 
> With love,  
> Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments and kudos give me life. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read my silly fever dream of a story.
> 
> Ma serannas--thank you again!


End file.
